


That'll Be The Day

by Waterloo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Black Hermione Granger, Desi Harry Potter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Letters, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Multi, Music, POV Alternating, Plot, Ravenclaw Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-10-12 13:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 92,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20564993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waterloo/pseuds/Waterloo
Summary: Harry Potter is eleven years old again and ready to change his life. Unfortunately all the guile and moxie in the world can't make you a better chess player.Alternatively:Harry Potter is the worst time traveller to ever have travelled and all of his friends think so too.





	1. Hermione Granger and the Tribulations of Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Buddy Holly song of the same name because this is a Peggy sue fic and I'm smort.  
Loosely inspired by @lullabyKnells time travel fic which I have not read but which I saw the summary of and went "oh cool" and then this plot bunny bounced around my heads for days and evolved. Thank you and all credit's to them for being more creative than me. Go read there stuff  
There will be one chap each from the pov of The Main Seven (Draco, Harry, Ron, hermione, Ginny, luna, Neville) each detailing a year at school.  
It will be very AU. A lot of issues that are the Big Bad in the actual books will be attempted to be altered early on. Unfortunately for Our Boy when a butterfly flaps its wings, a fanfic author creates additional problems to further the plot. Poor Harry. He's trapped by narrative causality.  
Romances will obviously be less present in earlier chapters when the peeps are younglings. Don't worry. There will be more than one big ass gay wedding. I live to serve.  
Hopefully this will be fun. Sorry for the big ass AN. Updates will rely on how hectic uni is, but I'd should be complete by Christmas so yay.  
(bolded text is from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows chapter thirty-five)

**_The creature behind them jerked and moaned, and Harry and Dumbledore sat without talking for the longest time yet. The realisation of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow. _**

** _‘I’ve got to go back, haven’t I?’_ **

** _ ‘That is up to you.’ _ **

** _‘I’ve got a choice?’ _ **

** _‘Oh yes.’ Dumbledore smiled at him. ‘We are in King’s Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to … let’s say … board a train.’ _ **

** _‘And where would it take me?’ _ **

** _‘On,’ said Dumbledore simply. _ **

** _Silence again._ **

_Harry let the silence engulf him, for just a moment. Silence was a luxury, he knew now, with the foresight that he was about to return to a battle he might not win. But must. _

_ He looked to the side of the station, where a brilliant golden steam train had pulled up along the tracks. Through the windows Harry could see figures, blurred as if through a pane of streaming water. He knew who they would be. Harry knew that if he boarded the steps of the steam engine and made his way to that carriage, he would find his family. _

_ Lily and James Potter. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin and Tonks as well, smiling and bubble-gum pink and alive. Fred Weasley, making the three marauders laugh until they cried. Perhaps family members he had never even thought to dream of: grandparents and great aunts and second cousins, with his hair or his dark golden skin or his knobbly knees. _

_ It was a world- an entire lifetime of stolen opportunities- that Harry gave up in the step he took away from that train. _

_ He thought, suddenly, of the pointlessness of conquering death when you could never go back. Never save those who had been lost. Whose lives had streamed out like the tendrils of fading white steam that floated away from that shining gold train. _

** _ Leaving this place would not be nearly as hard as walking into the Forest had been, but it was warm and light and peaceful here, and he knew that he was heading back to pain and the fear of more loss. _ **

** _He stood up, and Dumbledore did the same, and they looked for a long moment into each other’s faces. _ **

** _‘Tell me one last thing,’ said Harry. ‘Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?’ _ **

** _ Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. _ **

** _‘Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?’_ **

_So, Harry Potter stepped forward, resigned to face his future. _

_ It was with great surprise, then, that Harry's eyes did not open to find the gathered mulch floor of a forest clearing. _

_He opened his eyes and-_

_ Steam streamed out from the chimney of a scarlet steam engine. A caged owl hooted from the top of a precariously stacked pile of trunks. Harried families flowed past him with excited first years and moody teenagers in tow. _

_ Harry Potter left the stark white train station of death and found himself in another terminal. This one in a vivid, screaming technicolour he hadn't been witness to in years. _

_ Platform 9 and ¾, King's Cross. _

_ And one other impossible thing. He knew with a grave certainty that was uncommon to him that he was once again eleven years old. _

What, _the seventeen-year-old soldier trapped inside his eleven-year-old body thought, _the actual fuck.

* * *

** _*****Hermione Jean Granger*****_ **

Hermione Granger had been sitting in her compartment, people watching, for only ten minutes when the thin boy with dark hair and skin a few shades lighter than hers appeared out of thin air. This, she was sure, was the sort of surprised reaction that would be worn out of her after even only a few days at Magic School. It was certainly a common occurrence, she was sure, for young boys to appear out of nowhere, looking stunned and horrified at their surroundings. Nothing to worry about.

Probably nothing to worry about.

The problem was, Hermione Granger didn’t like Probable. She liked certainty, clarity, surety. So even if she was almost, quite really, _just about_, certain that this was nothing sort of normal for wizards, she still didn’t stop staring at the boy. He was short, shorter she was sure than even she was, and terribly skinny in that way that people are when they’ve missed too many important breakfasts. _Breakfast is the most important meal of the day_, as Jean Granger was sure to espouse any time Hermione even looked as if she might consider the possibility of not finishing her bowl of muesli.

This boy could be blown away by a strong breeze. He already seemed to be swaying. Hermione was suddenly vividly reminded of the feeble-nerved mothers who clutched their pearls and fainted delicately when faced with a great shock in all her classic novels about rich white people having rich white problems. The boy was whipping his head around now, mimicking the frantic barn owl caged a few feet from him with a family of red heads. The boy’s eyes seemed to bulge out of his head when he spotted the redheads. Perhaps he had a phobia of them, she thought.

This was the second thing you must learn about Hermione Jean Granger. Her solutions weren’t always the most logical (or the most likely to be true outside the confines of her classic swooning romance novels) but she made sure to have a solution to absolutely everything, anyway. Gingerphobia, she thought with satisfaction.

But the boy didn’t look like he wanted to run away from the redheads. In fact, his face screamed with the exact same expression her old cat had adopted anytime the fridge was opened. Pure, desperate wanting. Hermione watched, fingers itching to grab her notebook out of her rucksack so she could write down her observations and come to a correct conclusion about the mystery, when the boy turned his head-

And looked her dead in the eyes.

Hermione would swear until her dying day, she was sure, that the boy mouthed her name in shock.

Hermione gaped back at him. She was just about to mouth something back at him, make first contact as they say, when a tower of trunks floated by (with magic!) and blocked the boy from view. When her eye line finally cleared, she caught only scraggy black hair disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

Hermione Granger had probably been born brilliant. She would like it noted for prosperity that ’probably’ is a qualifier used here only due to a lack of quantifiable proof. Her mother swears she’d had the little wooden cylinder block through the circle hole after only a moments consideration.

But if she was always brilliant, or if brilliance hit her one fine morning like some kind virus, the end result was the same. The end result was always the same for brilliant children. Loneliness. Lunchtimes spent alone reading Jane Austen books even though, honestly, she still thought of love and kissing as ‘_icky_’. Despite how desperately, unrelentingly and woefully Hermione Granger wanted a friend, the need was still outweighed by her pathological need to be right. Always. And to make sure that people were _aware_ she was right. _Always_.

She had accepted rather early on what her future would look like. Birthday teas with just her parents. Sitting alone on the buses to school trips.

Then September came, as it unfailingly did, and with it her eleventh birthday. Set to be just another rerun of the previous years, this year had featured an impromptu guest. Magical Professor McGonagall with her ability to turn in to a cat, and her magic wand, and her _Yes, young Hermione is a witch, too. Yes. There is a magic school full of children just like her. _

Suddenly, it didn’t seem all that bad to have a future full of no friends but her parents. Hermione Granger had magic. Hermione Granger would always be magical.

Who needed friends?

* * *

Hermione was pretty sure this boy needed a friend. Or a psychologist. (She filed away a memo in her mind to ask for more information about magical healthcare and mental health attitudes)

The Disappearing Boy had blown into Hermione’s compartment like a messy haired storm only a few minutes after he’d disappeared on the platform. He’d flung her compartment door open, stepped in, and proceeded to gape at her like a fish.

When she’d tentatively offered him a hello, he’d made a strangled, dying cat sound in the back of his throat, and landed heavily on the opposite bench of seats, head in hands.

She’d caught a few mutterings here and there. Mostly they were curses that would make even her Cousin Monty, who’d worked on the oil rigs since age 18, blush. Then there were the odd phrases like ‘_oh my merlin, _elev_en_’ and _‘Christ on a cracker what am I going to do’_ and a repeated refrain of _‘platform nine and fucking three quarters’._

Hermione hadn’t decided if she was someone who was comfortable with swearing yet, but she was sure it didn’t count if it was a direct quotation in one’s own mind.

“Um” She hedged, lightly “May I offer you a Tunnock bar for your troubles?”

Hermione wasn’t certain, but she was pretty sure a magical society would expect a more formal manner of speech. She’d been practicing on her barbie dolls. Her barbie dolls that she most definitely didn’t play with anymore, and anyway even if she did it was only to re-enact her favourite scenes from Much Ado About Nothing and Emma, and so really it didn’t count anyway.

The boy looked up at her, startled, and stared at the red and gold foil wrapped biscuit in her hand.

“My mum made me bring a whole packet, to share” Hermione explained. Then cursed herself when she realised she hadn’t said that ‘Witchily’ at all “Um, forsooth” she added, but it came out more like a question.

The boy took the Tunnock bar with shaky hands. He seemed to stare at it with suspicion for far longer than necessary, before unwrapping it and devouring it in less than three whole bites. Hungry, she confirmed to herself.

“I’m Hermione” She said “Um, perchance your name…. sire?” Oh, damn that for a game of soldiers, she thought. It only made her sound like a fool.

He was certainly looking at her like she’d been a fool. “I’m Harry” He said, voice coming out scratchy.

“Are you…okay?” She said, and then it all came out of her in an unstoppable Hermione Style Ramble “It’s just, I saw you appear on the platform. And I’m sure that’s normal, for magically imbued folk or whatever, its just you looked shocked, and so I thought maybe it was an accidental appearing, or that you’d appeared somewhere wrong. But you do look like someone heading to Hogwarts, I thought with your clothes you must have muggle parents but then you said merlin so I thought, of course, magical accident. Because wizards must have accidents too, right? Like high speed broom collisions and accidental tax avoidance and magicking yourself into tight corners. That must be it, right? A magical accident”

Hermione waited patiently for a response. Harry only gaped at her. Then, in a cracking voice he said “Yeah, s’pose. Magical accident” and then it was as if an invisible mask had slipped over him, and he straightened up, looking surer than he had before. “Magical accident! And this…whole thing…is just a magical accident, right. And if it’s a magical accident, which you’re right absolutely do happen I can tell you for sure Hermione, then- then this is like-“ He stopped trying to convince himself of whatever it was and looked startled. The next thing he said under his breathe, clearly meant only for him, but Hermione still caught it.

“Then this is like a reset. Magic is giving me a second chance”

His eyes glazed over. Like he was staring at something Hermione couldn’t see. Suddenly, he turned to her, a full-body grin overcoming him.

“Hermione Granger! There is someone we just both have to meet”

It took her days to realise what had struck her as odd about that, apart from the whole of it of course. She’d never told him her last name.

* * *

Ron Weasley, who had dirt on his nose and a fat brown rat on his lap, seemed equally as baffled by Harry as Hermione was. Despite the boy’s insistence that Hermione had people she needed to meet, and the suspicious way he’d headed straight for this compartment, the two boys didn’t actually seem to know each other.

Correction; Ron Weasley didn’t seem to have ever laid eyes on the boy in his life. Harry on the other hand looked and acted as if he had known the boy forever but kept up a flimsy persona of a cheery stranger excited to make new friends.

Hermione couldn’t help but like the boy, however, even if he was strange and getting stranger by the minute. When Ron had seemed ready to make biting comments in response to Hermione’s, admittedly, poor first impressions, Harry had cut him off with happy questions about muggle football, which had seemed to intrigue Ron despite his reluctance. This had segued into the current, seemingly never ending, explanation of ‘quidditch’ which Hermione thought sounded far too dangerous and a little bit redundant. Pointing out that the seeker seemed to make the whole game pointless didn’t exactly endear Ron towards her though. Harry had just laughed.

Hermione, dentist’s daughter as she was, had failed at hiding her disapproval of the avalanche of food Harry bought from the Trolley. She warmed to the occasion, however, when Harry implored her to treat it as if it were a scientific investigation. Ron seemed happy to answer her endless questions about wizarding confectionary, cooking, and, because she was Hermione, dentistry. That was until he had the misfortune to chew a vomit Every-flavour-jellybean (“Every flavour? Surely it can’t mean every flavour _in the entire world?”) _and had had to make a mad dash for the train lavatories.

Which was when things got decidedly weirder.

“Hermione, look!” Harry shouted suddenly, pointing out of the window. Hermione whipped her head around, craning to see. There, through the impeccably clear window, was-

The English countryside.

“Whoopsie. Need glasses, me. My mistake” Harry said cheerily when she turned back in confusion after spotting nothing “Thought I saw a cool cloud”

Which was- just _strange_. Though of course Hermione had been taught by her father never to judge a book by its cover, she figured it was probably acceptable to judge when the book seemed to spew a constant stream of absolute nonsense and grinned at the world as if it was viewing a rather charming absurdist play.

When Ron came back, it turned out he’d misplaced his rat. (Hermione considered Scabbers a very odd name for a supposedly loved pet). Harry threw himself into looking high and low for him, and they were joined soon by a round faced boy called Neville who had coincidentally misplaced his toad too.

And if Hermione hadn’t known better, which she was always sure she did, and had been slightly more cynical, which she was sure was a skill that would come with age, she would have called Harry’s extreme perturbance, worry and strife over the lost rat just a _tad bit_ exaggerated.

Alas, Ron’s rat didn’t show up. Ron seemed rather more bothered about his older brother Percy’s reaction to the missing pet, however, than its actual wellbeing. Hermione, a consummate only child, was not one to judge. Siblings could be very stressful as her mother told her every time her dad came home from Aunty Helen’s in a huff.

Harry calmed the ginger boy down soon with tales of the muggle world- which Hermione interrupted every now and then to correct. Especially when Harry said things that were certainly not true. Harry would respond to her accusations of untruthfulness with unflinching cheeriness, and odd assurances such as “That’s right, not _yet_. But I’m sure they’ll invent it soon” before going on to tell Ron of the wonders of electric trains.

The sun was beginning to set when the compartment door once again flew open. However, this time it wasn’t chubby Neville, but a pointy little boy with atrociously gelled back white blonde hair, a book under his arm, and two boys who were clearly lost extras from an Al Pacino movie.

** _ "Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"_ **

To Hermione’s surprise, Harry looked vaguely excited to see the rude boy. Hermione thought he and his two shadows looked like just the sort who would nick her bookbag off her and then refuse to give it back and laugh while she tried to get it.

“Malfoy!” He said, surprise evident in his face. Then it seemed to drain suddenly of all colour. “Er…nice to see you… since we last saw each other… at …. Madam Malkin’s?”

His voice tilted up in pitch at the end, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of his own accuracy. This was the sort of thing he’d been doing all train journey, so Hermione wasn’t really surprised. The Malfoy kid looked vaguely confused for a moment, before his expression switched to that of someone who was used to everything always being right in the world when it came to him.

“Ah, yes. Of course, you remember me” He said smugly. Then cast a disdainful look at Ron “Though I wouldn’t think you’d want to associate with _his_ sor--“

“This is my good friend, Ron” Harry said, cutting the boy off “My _good friend_. Now, Malfoy, would you like to sit with us?”

Hermione thought there was equal part welcome and strange reluctance in Harry’s voice, though Hermione attributed that to the Malfoy boys generally unpleasant aura.

Malfoy looked slightly stumped but was once again cut off before he could respond. This time, however, by a gaping Ron.

“You’re Harry Potter?” he gasped “_The_ Harry Potter?”

Malfoy looked as if all balance had once again been restored to his world “Ha! You didn’t even _know_—”

“Yes, I didn’t think it was important. Now, Malfoy, are you sitting down or not?” Harry said, cutting off an increasingly baffled Malfoy once again. Harry cast a distasteful look at Malfoy’s two friends “Sorry I don’t think there’s room for all of you”

Hermione sort of hoped that the Malfoy boy would take this as a reason to leave. That was, until her eyes finally landed on the title of the book in the boys’ hands.

“Is that _Marigold Mantras Marvellous Mustering of Miscellaneous Magical Spells?” _She demanded “My mum wouldn’t let me get it, she said it was probably too advanced and superfluous to the syllabus. And also, she doesn’t really approve of rampant alliteration”

Malfoy stared at her, slightly alarmed, while Harry let out a baffled laugh and Ron a strangled sound of surprise.

Malfoy, looking like someone who has lost the plot of the world rather completely and was now completely off the rails, nodded. “I- Crabbe, Goyle. Go- find somewhere else to sit or whatever”

Then he sat down rather ungracefully next to Hermione and proceeded to begin a two-hour conversation about the book, magical theory as a whole, and Hogwarts. This surprisingly interesting conversation was interspersed by Harry’s strangely effective attempts to interrupt Ron and Malfoy’s, who it turned out was called Draco, barbs at each other’s families.

Harry also kept doing odd things, like looking towards the ceiling and saying _why_, and _how_ and _why me. _But Harry hadn’t done a single not weird thing since Hermione had met him and so she thought that was neither here nor there.

It was nice, she decided, having friends. Even if the rather large part of her that was an insecure realist insisted it wouldn’t last for long. No one ever stayed to be friends with Hermione Granger. That was a fact.

* * *

The sorting hat smelled like mildew. Hermione was focusing on this instead of her overwhelming fear that the hat was going to touch her head and immediately scream that she being there had been a mistake, that Hermione wasn’t really magical at all, and that actually she was so ordinary that no one should really ever bother with her at all. Then she was pretty sure she would have to be executed by the wizard with the impressive long beard for seeing things she wasn’t actually worthy of seeing.

Hermione tended to spiral into extremes when she was nervous.

A sudden laugh echoed around her head. One that she was almost certain hadn’t come from her own mind. A small, amused voice sounded suddenly in her ears.

“And where does a curious thing like you belong, eh? Don’t worry youngling, you’ve got the right of it. You _are_ brilliant”

Hermione took a moment to preen, before rightly panicking about the supposedly sentient mind-reading piece of headwear currently sat atop her head.

A long three minutes later, after a spirited debate and lot of disembodied laughter she wasn’t entirely sure wasn’t aimed at her, Hermione Granger became the newest member of Gryffindor house.

She took great joy in clapping for all her new friends. Draco, who went slightly pink faced, slightly prideful, to Ravenclaw. He gave her an embarrassed nod in acknowledgement of her spirited clapping. She was one of the only ones from her table clapping. A red head with Ron’s forehead and chin looked at her in confusion and said, “You do know that’s a Malfoy, Right?”

She hadn’t really known what that meant, apart from being a very stupid observation, and so she simply gave him a look you might give a puppy when it did a trick correctly. “Yes, well done” She said, just a touch patronisingly.

Then in quick succession she was joined at the red and gold table by a happy Ron and a thoughtful looking Harry, who would periodically glance over at a now blue-accented Draco in confusion.

They spent the meal happily discussing everything about Gryffindor and Hogwarts they could think of, while devouring a splendid meal. Hermione decided she was going to like Hogwarts. Even if Harry, Ron or Draco might soon decide that she was too bossy to be friends with.

* * *

Harry Potter was strange, Hermione couldn’t deny it. There were just certain things about the boy that didn’t seem to click. Unlike the rest of the first years, Harry never got lost and acted as if he knew every inch of the castle off by heart. When Hermione questioned this, asking if he’d ever been to Hogwarts, Harry had simply said that he’d grown up with second hand knowledge of the school from his Aunt, who had heard it from his mother.

Then there came lessons. Harry Potter was just too good at everything. It was, she hated to think it, extremely annoying for someone like Hermione to not excel when she always had before. The worst part was the way Harry seemed to always play his own brilliance off, like there was nothing unusual about it. Hermione had watched him casually transfigure a matchstick into a pin on the first attempt, before seeming to panic. He’d then proceeded to transfigure the pin _back into a match_ before spending the rest of the lesson pretending to struggle with the rest of the class as if he _hadn’t already done it. _

Hermione, never one to brag, would nevertheless like it noted that she achieved a shiny silver pin on only her second attempt.

Harry Potter never seemed to cease in his endless crusade to frustrate her. She was becoming used to his almost constant look of panic after he did or said something, like he felt he shouldn’t have. He seemed absolutely thrilled to personally greet and chat with everyone they crossed paths with, as if he was reuniting with lost friends. Sure, whatever, Hermione was all for socialisation but there _came a point. _You couldn’t just go about liking everyone you met. It was indecent. It was simply un-British.

To top it all off, the boy was just weird.

He seemed to hold an odd vendetta against their Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell. To Hermione, he just seemed like your run-of-the-mill unsuited-to-the-profession teacher. Sure, it was slightly odd that he seemed terrified of his own students. And sure, the garlic smell was admittedly overwhelming. But Hermione thought Harry’s obsession with Quirrell’s turban was beginning to verge on culturally insensitive.

She couldn’t prove it, but she would stake a rather large bet on Harry’s involvement with the strange happenings that surrounded the professor’s lessons. Like the multiple times Quirrell had simply tripped over thin air, or the strange sudden gale-force wind that had flown through the classroom on their third lesson. It had sent the pages of everyone’s textbooks rifling, and many disgruntled classmates’ hats had been sent high into the air. Quirrell himself had had to clutch tightly to his turban to keep it in place. Harry acted disgruntled for a while after each of these incidents, before cheering up and moving on to what Hermione was sure was his next devilish scheme to destroy magical pedagogy as a whole.

Quirrell wasn’t the only teacher that Harry acted strangely towards. Harry seemed to hold a strange irreverence for Professor McGonagall. Honestly Hermione couldn’t find anything too nefarious in this though. McGonagall was very quickly working her way on to Hermione’s personal hero’s list. She was just so _cool. _

But then there was Snape. Ah, the tortured tale of Harry and Snape. Hermione was sure it could be a lost Shakespeare play. Harry seemed determined to avoid the professor at all costs. This became difficult of course in Snape’s own lessons. Harry had taken to slouching so low in his chair so as to avoid the teacher’s line of sight that he had more than once accidentally slid to the floor. On one of these occasions Harry had seemingly decided that the best course of action would just be to remain under the table for the entire lesson. Snape, who hadn’t spotted Harry before the boy’s impromptu trip to down under, took this as an opportunity to monologue grandly about _certain boys _who_ shall remain nameless _who thought it was acceptable not to turn up to lessons and who relied too much on their unearned fame. Snape seemed rather agitated by Harry’s obvious wish to avoid him and spoiled for a fight any time Harry mistakenly made himself present in the bat-like teacher’s vicinity.

The worst, most terrible, no-good, awful, bad thing about Harry Potter was that Hermione couldn’t help but like him. However many times a day she found herself questioning the boys sanity, truthfulness or general real-ness as a person she just couldn’t seem to stop letting him hang around her. This was probably since Harry seemed to genuinely want to hang around her. Something that had never happened to her before. Harry happily asked her questions about the books she read, her family, and her theories on magical history and its relation to the muggle counterpart. _And then he seemed equally happy to listen_. Even if Hermione’s rants over ran the hour mark. Or ended up on topics seemingly entirely unrelated to her starting point.

This was unknown territory. Even Hermione’s parents tended to gently shut her down if she talked about a single topic for longer than ten minutes. Or if, as had often been the case, she had talked so long she had forgotten to do simple things like eat the meal in front of her, look where she was going or, on a memorable occasion, take a breath. Jean Granger hadn’t enjoyed driving her ten-year-old daughter to A&E the time she’d passed out and whacked her head mid rant about NHS cuts.

Hermione was very passionate about the welfare state. 

So, she began to notice a pattern in her own thoughts. Whenever Harry would do something odd or unexplainable (this occurred at least a dozen times before breakfast was even finished) she found her self thinking things like _oh that’s just Harry_ and _well, can’t expect anything different from him. _This frustrated her as it echoed the idiotic people who seemed to innocuously attribute his every whim and action to the inane phrase _oh, that’s just the-boy-who-lived. _As if defeating a dark wizard before your second birthday somehow meant you didn’t need to adhere to normal human behaviour or the laws of the universe. That was admittedly a bit of a stretch. Hermione hadn’t seen Harry bend any of the laws of the universe. _Yet. _

So she kept a keen weather eye on the boy wonder at all times.

This wasn’t actually why she found herself following a suspiciously acting Harry from the common room on the second Friday into term, however. She’d fallen asleep in front of the common room fire, an open book about rare potion ingredients open on her chest. At around eleven, well after Percy Weasley had shooed everyone up to there dorms, she’d been awakened by the sound of the portrait hole opening.

She caught a fleeting and incriminating glance of Harry Potter leaving the common room with a shoe box in his hands. A_ suspicious_ shoebox.

In hot pursuit, Hermione had caught the Portrait door before it could swing shut and climbed out after him.

“Harry!” She cried, stumbling slightly over her untied shoe laces and simultaneously attempting to re-tie her mane of hair into its ponytail “Wait!”

Harry turned around with obvious surprise, and she was treated to a clear view of what he was carrying. It was an ordinary black shoebox, taped all around the lid with copious amounts of spello-tape. From where they stood, she could spot that there were holes in the lid, as if someone had stabbed it repeatedly with a sharp pencil. As Hermione watched, the box rocked, as if something had slammed itself against one side of the box.

“Hermione” Harry said with obvious surprise. He must not have seen her in the common room. He looked down at the rattling box in his hands, back up at her, and then back down. “This…uh…this isn’t what it looks like?”

Hermione had absolutely no clue what she was looking at. But Harry’s reaction was enough for her to know that it was another of his clearly dastardly schemes.

“You, Harry Potter, are _so_ weird” She said, unable to stop herself “Now. What the hell is going on and why is that box _moving like there’s something inside it” _

Harry winced “You aren’t going to listen to me if I tell you it’s just a really big spider I caught, right?” He sighed at her continued look of disbelief “No, I didn’t think that one would work on you, Hermione”

He often said things like that. Like he’d known her for years instead of a fortnight. Harry looked to the ceiling as if asking for answers from some cruel god. Then he let out a tremendous groan.

“This” He said, shaking the box lightly “Is a tremendously dangerous agent of Lord Voldemort, who’s currently masquerading as Ron’s pet rat. I’ve been keeping him stunned while I figured out the best course of action, and now I’m going to take him to Dumbledore”

They both remained silent for a long moment. Hermione in understandable shock and Harry in clear exhaustion.

Then he tacked on “Don’t worry. I’ve been feeding him”

* * *

“Professor” Harry said with an unneeded amount of glee “I have conquered an enemy of the light and now bring him to you! Behold”

Dumbledore- who looked oddly even more impressive in his candy pink, cat patterned night clothes- looked a little bit like he thought he might still be having a dream. In fact, he’d had that same look on his face ever since Harry had knocked on his chamber door and demanded an ‘audience’ with him. He just stared at the shoebox, which Harry had flung on to the wizard’s coffee table, with befuddlement.

“He’s in the box” Harry clarified, entirely unhelpfully. 

“Who’s in the box, my dear boy” The wizard asked, his voice clearly denoting that he believed he was conversing with someone who was a few marbles short of a gobstone set. He looked over Harry’s head at Hermione, clearly wanting her to be the one who would explain what was going on. She stared back blankly at him. She didn’t have a clue either, despite Harry’s obviously insane explanation.

She’d sort of just tagged along to be Harry’s morale support when the headmaster calmly broke to the boy that he was obviously insane and would need to be taken to the nearest wizarding psychiatric facility as soon as possible.

“Peter Pettigrew” Harry said calmly. Dumbledore’s eyebrows shot up so high she was sure for a moment they would merge with his hairline. He clearly recognised the name.

“Harry, Peter Pettigrew is dead” He said, slowly “He’s been dead for ten years”

“Ah!” Harry said, wiggling his finger like he was Sherlock Holmes explaining the case to a befuddled John Watson “That’s what he _wanted_ you to think. In actual fact, Pettigrew was an unregistered animagus who, upon being chased by Sirius Black” Dumbledore’s eyebrows once again became one with the sky at this name “faked his own death, framed Sirius and took twelve muggles out in an explosion. And now he’s there, in that box, in his animagus form of a rat”

Harry gave the box a demonstrative poke. It shook. Harry seemed rather self-satisfied with this speech. That was until Dumbledore seemed to stump him with one croaked question.

“How could you possibly know this?!”

Harry blinked “Ah”

In the pause that followed his words, Hermione was sure she counted one full orbital period of the planet Neptune.

Harry waved his hands wildly “W_ell_”

In the next silence black holes were formed and died. The longest living killer whale was born and died peacefully in his sleep, finally becoming one with the earth and the sea floor as he’d always dreamed he would as a baby killer whale.

Harry winced “You se_e_—”

Oak trees sprouted and were felled. Mammoths experienced a brief resurgence before once again going extinct. The human race finally figured out how to manipulate natural occurrences of biological immortality.

And then, after all that, Harry Potter finally sighed and said “You see Professor. The truth is I’m obviously one of the greatest seers of all time”

Which was just—Hermione threw her hands into the air in frustration. Dumbledore blinked. He blinked again. Harry stared placidly back at him. 

It was so obviously a lie. It was _so obviously_ a lie.

“Prove it” Hermione demanded, voice just a touch more petulant than she would have liked.

Harry looked at her, seemed to remember she was there, and winced. “Erm.” The greatest seer of all time said “It’s going to snow this Christmas”

Hermione could just punch him. She just really could.

“Oh, is it” She said through gritted teethe “And will it also shower on Easter and be chilly on Halloween? Oh, how_ever_ could you have predicted that”

He looked at her for a moment, brow pursed in thought. “Your mum and dad are called Jean and Patrick. Your first pet was a gerbil called Mr Darcy who went behind the sofa and was never seen again. Your first act of accidental magic was to make your library card say you were allowed unlimited books on loan. The librarian thought you must be a brilliant forger and banned you from the grown-up books for three weeks”

Hermione blinked. “I could have just told you all that” She whispered, even though she knew she hadn’t.

Harry just shrugged “Or I could be the greatest seer of all time” Then he grinned “Oh dear, if only we had someone who could tell us which one it was”

Hermione’s lips curled up reluctantly at the corners. It did explain a lot of Harry’s strange behaviour, she had to admit. Like how he seemed to always know when Draco was about to insult Ron or the few times he’d called someone by name even though they’d obviously never met him before.

Or how he’d known her last name on the train.

She looked at the shoebox, which was still valiantly trying to rock its way over the side of the table. “Is that really a dark wizard masquerading as Ron’s pet rat?”

Harry sighed, looking at the box forlornly “Yeah, it is. Life’s absolutely ridiculous isn’t it?”

“I think maybe your life is just extra ridiculous. Like everyone else in the world gets to have mundane lives because you took all the strange happenings with you at birth” Hermione whispered, still in slight shock.

Harry laughed lightly “Honestly that would explain a worrying amount of my life”

They both seemed to remember the Headmaster at the same time and turned back to look at him. The old man was staring off into the distance looking baffled. For the first time since Hermione had met the ineffable magician, he actually seemed to appear fallible. As if something he believed in as strongly as gravity had been disproven.

Actually, Hermione wasn’t entirely sure wizards believed in gravity. They probably just believed Merlin had cast some exhaustive sticking spell on the world to stop everything floating off.

“You…believe you are a Seer” He said, though Hermione didn’t think it was actually a question as he didn’t wait for Harry’s answer “And that in that box is Peter Pettigrew, who’s the actual traitor and _not_ Sirius”

Hermione only had a moment to consider what it was that these two men had seemingly betrayed before Dumbledore’s mood suddenly shifted. “Well” He exclaimed, a blazing twinkle in his eye “There’s only one way to find out the truth”

As the great wizard pointed his wand at the shoebox, Hermione could tell he was desperately hoping that Harry was simply crazy.

Hermione also had a sinking feeling that that wasn’t actually the case. However comforting it would be to her ego.

Two hours later, after the unsettling reveal of the Grown-Man-Trapped-In-A-Box who was possibly a murder suspect, a drawn-out discussion that Harry had looked bored throughout, and the arrival of a myriad of ministry officials, Hermione and Harry were finally off to bed.

Harry had a skip in his step. Hermione had noticed that the boy, despite his exuberance and joy in seemingly all mundane aspects of Hogwarts life, seemed often weighed down by something. It must have been the knowledge of the murderer he kept under his bed. Alleged murderer, anyway. Hermione and Harry had been assured by an embarrassed ministry official that there would be an extensive- and he’d emphasised _by-the-book_\- trial and investigation.

That part of the night had been surprisingly quite educational. Hermione had begun to have doubts about the calibre of many Wizarding civil services ever since she had learned of the entire community’s existence.

Before they could climb through the portrait hole, they both stopped and turned to each other.

“I—” Harry began.

“Who—” Hermione began.

They both stopped. “You go first” Harry said, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

Hermione bit her lip “Who’s Sirius Black? What do people think he did?”

Harry sighed, and looked at a spiderweb on the ceiling instead of her face the whole time he answered “He was- _is- _he _is _my godfather. And he’s in prison- there’s a wizarding prison called Azkaban- for the betrayal and subsequent murder of my parents. And for supposedly being a death eater. That’s a follower of Voldemort”

Hermione winced slightly at the name, but let it pass “Oh” She said softly. Despite her many skills, comforting other people wasn’t one of them. She liked cold, hard facts and often didn’t know what to do or how to react when those cold, hard facts revealed sad, uncomfortable truths.

Harry stared a moment longer at the spider slowly spinning its web, and Hermione watched too. Then he looked at her with a weak smile “But it should be okay now. It should all work out. Now”

Hermione gave him a smile and patted him awkwardly on the arm.

Harry smiled a little more brightly at her “You wont mind if we keep the whole seer thing between us?”

“Of course” Hermione said, shrugging easily. She rather liked having a secret that was just between her and Harry.

Just before they went to go their separate ways to their dormitory’s, Harry stopped them again.

“You’re a really good friend, Hermione” He said, and gave her a fleeting hug. He was gone and up the stairs before she could even think to hug him back.

That was the first time anyone ever referred at Hermione Granger as someone who might be good at having friends. She wasn’t a seer herself, but she had a hopeful feeling that it wouldn’t be the last.

* * *

_Dear <strike>Professor </strike>Mr Lupin, _

_My name is Harry Potter, and I’ve been told by a good friend (Hagrid!) that you knew my parents. I’d like if we could write to each other so that I could learn more about them, and about you too. This is my owl Hedwig, she’s very nice but also bossy and if she bites you it probably means she wants you to write faster. Sorry about that. _

_I also wanted to write you about some difficult news. I’m sure Dumbledore has been in contact, but if he hasn’t then I thought you should know that your friend Sirius Black is an innocent man. I can’t really tell you more in this letter, but I’m sure the Prophet will be out with as much of the story as they can gather as soon as possible. Ask Dumbledore for the rest of it. I hope this is good news. _

_I would like it very much if you too wanted to have a relationship with me. I don’t really have any other adults in the wizarding world. Especially not who knew my parents. _

_Hope you are feeling well. Please write back._

_Best wishes, _

_Harry James Potter _

_p.s. I’ve sent a fancy chocolate bar attached with this letter so hopefully that reaches you intact. My friends mum always sends him whole boxes of the stuff. I hear chocolate is good for making people feel better, if you needed it._

* * *

By the time mid-October rolled around the weather at Hogwarts had turned from mild and grey to miserable and ready to storm the Bastille. Hermione had woken up every morning that past week to the soothing sound of rain slamming against the girl’s dormitory window.

(Well. She had actually been woken up last Friday by Parvati’s shrieks of anger because Lavender had left the window open the night before, and the rain had soaked through her quilt. They’d only had six weeks of being roommates. The three girls were still working on becoming a cohesive unit. Hermione was slightly worried that it could end in homicide before they reached that point, however)

Their group had therefore taken it upon themselves to spend breaks and frees in a dusty back corner of the library. This was opposed to huddling around Hermione’s charmed jam jar of blue flames outside. It had taken only a few weeks for their group to coalesce into its now constant state. At first, Neville and Parvati, as well as some of Draco’s childhood Slytherin friends, had dipped in and out before finding their places with others. In Neville’s case, Harry had introduced him to some Hufflepuffs- Ernie, Justin and Hannah- and by the weeks end they hardly saw him apart from the trio. Harry still made it a habit to seek him out at least once a week and Hermione would partner with the round-faced boy in lessons they shared with the Slytherin’s where neither Draco or Neville’s friends were present.

But Hermione, Harry, Draco and Ron had formed an easy, if often jovially combative, quartet. Harry seemed already attuned to all of Hermione and Ron’s quirks and demeanours, and well versed in how to handle them. He did often seem baffled by Draco’s very presence, despite being the one who had initially introduced them all. Any time that the Ravenclaw boy would make a joke that made Harry laugh, or go an extended period without making a snide comment about Hermione’s heritage or Ron’s family, Harry seemed to have an internal crisis. Hermione had noticed that Harry tended to find the closest rain-soaked window to stare dramatically and stoically out of every now and then or when something didn’t seem to make sense to him. She attributed this to him being a boy, and therefore inept at handling his own emotions.

Or else, that’s what she’d observed of the boys she had made friends with. Ron and Draco had spent their first week of acquaintance on a path to mutually assured destruction. In fact Hermione had found herself considering the intelligence of becoming close to either of them, when it was clear that they would never be able to remain cordial around each other. It was only ever going to end in disaster. Then came the chess match. Ah, that first tense chess match. Half of Gryffindor tower had gathered to watch the youngest Weasley just marginally triumph over the first Malfoy in a century not to be sorted into Slytherin at a game of Wizard’s chess. Hermione had truly believed that Draco would up and leave the Gryffindor tower never to be seen again. Instead, the boy had grinned a rare real grin and held out his hand for Ron to shake.

“Next time, eh Weasley?” He’d said, before asking Ron’s opinion on some famous Chess controversy or something else Hermione had no interest in.

Hermione was incredibly grateful that the two had found something to bond over, as she didn’t want to give either of them up. Ronald was leaps and bounds ahead of the other two in terms of emotional maturity, and frankly hilarious. Hermione knew she tended to become too serious and lose herself in studying. Ron always found a way to give her grateful distractions or to bring levity to stressful situations she couldn’t seem to solve. He may not be the most academically focused person she’d ever met, and he definitely did not have enough respect for the sacred hall that was the Library, but he was the only other person who knew how to deal with Harry Potter and honestly that said a lot about him. Harry was stressful at the best of times.

Anyway, she had Draco be obsessively academic with. Draco would often invite her to the spirited intellectual- and stringently structured- debates that would take place in Ravenclaw common room. Hermione had begun to understand why despite her aptitude for academia she hadn’t been sorted into Ravenclaw. They all valued knowledge and learning, sure, but most Ravenclaws she’d held conversations with had leaned just a little bit too far into the mad-scientist arena for her taste. Plus, there was always a strange air of anarchy and dissent in the blue and bronze common room. Hermione attributed it to the lingering intellectual influence of The Enlightenment. Viva la Ravenclaw.

The pair would also often find themselves in spiralling conversations about tiny minutiae that had Ron and Harry groaning and calling order to the table. No accounting for taste with those too, honestly.

Harry had explained to Hermione privately that she shouldn’t get too close to Draco because his family were what was known as blood purists and he couldn’t be trusted not to discriminate against her for being a muggleborn. It was true that at first Draco had seemed vaguely suspicious of her, and obviously alarmed that he’d carried out a lengthy debate on magic with someone with muggle parents. But as the weeks went by, nothing had happened and the two had only grown closer. Whenever Draco made an uninformed or distasteful comment about muggles one of the other three would just correct him. Ron’s attempts often lead to hilariously inaccurate explanations, but the thought was there.

All in all, Hermione had never expected to already have such a solid friendship group. She often alarmed herself at random moments with the thought that she always, _always _had someone to sit with at dinner. That she always had someone to partner with. Someone to spend her free time with.

It baffled her constantly that there were actually people in the world who willingly wanted to do all those things with her.

Despite the ease of their social lives, Hermione still found herself dealing daily with The Harry Potter Problem. It deserved the capitalisation. It deserved several case files, an alphabetised filling cabinet full of information and copious amounts of colour coordinated spider diagrams.

Hermione had her trusty little blue notebook. It was almost full. She was going to have to owl her dad to send her a new one.

It was filled with lists such as _‘reasons why Harry Potter is probably not a dangerous individual’ _and _‘why I should still be friends with Harry Potter (despite everything)’ _and _‘Possible reasons Harry potter is Like That’. _

They were extensive lists.

Harry had continued his crusade against Quirrell and his odd behaviour around Snape. So far he had missed approx. 20% of their potions lessons. Plus, Quirrell’s turban always ended their lessons slightly worse for wear after Harry’s escapades. She was seriously going to have to have a conversation with him about sensitivity training.

He went to Dumbledore’s office at least once a day to ask for updates on Sirius Black as information on his release hadn’t yet reached the media and Harry was beginning to worry. The Headmaster had taken to leaving the great hall very quickly after mealtimes so as to avoid the determined boy-who-lived. All that Dumbledore could tell Harry apparently was that the ministry had it under serious review. Harry didn’t seem to think this was enough.

They’d filled Draco and Ron in on the situation, but Hermione had noted that Harry hadn’t told them about his seeing powers. Despite Harry’s pretty convincing observations about her own life, she wasn’t one hundred percent convinced about it herself. The problem was that she couldn’t think of a solution that made any more sense.

Ron had been pretty upset about his rat though. Harry had promised that that summer they could go to the pet shop at Diagon alley and see if they could get something else, but Ron had only mumbled something about money which had led harry to blush profusely and be extra nice to Ron for days after.

The next occurrence in the Great Saga of Harry Potter came after potions on the Friday before Halloween. Harry was usually the first one out of the doors of the potion’s dungeon when the bell for the end of the period went. They’d had it first today, so everyone else had taken their time packing up and talking to their friends before walking to wherever it was they would usually spend their breaktimes. Hermione had prepared as usual to pack up at her own pace with Ron and Draco before walking out into the hallway to find an uncomfortable Harry waiting for them. This day went differently.

Harry lingered. The other two occupants of the table and Hermione herself stared at him in shock. Harry never spent any more time in a room with Snape than he needed to.

The Professor himself seemed to take account of this odd situation “Not in the running away mood today, Potter? You know It doesn’t count as catching up on your missed time if you dawdle about” he sneered.

Harry visibly gulped “Actually” He said, voice choked before he cleared it and went to go on. Hermione and Ron exchanged bewildered looks. “I wondered if I could ask you a question”

“You just did, didn’t you?” Snape mocked “But fine. Ask your question, Potter. Please attempt not to sound as inane as you always do”

Hermione thought this was a bit rich coming from a teacher that hardly ever heard Harry talk, but the professor seemed to hold a grudge against Harry. Hermione tried to catch Harry’s eye to check if he was alright. Not, as she suspected was the case, possessed.

“Erm. Do you have any information about the cost and distributor information for Wolfsbane potion?” Harry asked, the whole question coming out in a garbled rush. Both Snape and Hermione blinked at Harry slowly in disbelief. If Hermione had had any predictions at all for where this was going, she certainly wouldn’t have said here. She made a mental note to add this to her _‘Harry potter is so strange’_ list. 

“I wasn’t aware you were a Werewolf Mister Potter” Snape said in disbelief.

“No, it’s for…research” Harry said lamely.

Snape’s eyes crew closer together in suspicion. “What research would require an eleven-year-old boy to inquire in to the cost and distribution of a rare, advanced, _specialised _potion like Wolfsbane?”

Harry blinked, shifting about nervously. In fact, Hermione was pretty sure he hadn’t stood still at all through out this exchange. Just continually twitched oddly.

“Advanced…research?”

Snape seemed to suddenly conclude that it would probably save him both time and sanity to just give in to the odd force that was Harry. Hermione saw this as the best course of action for self-preservation. He rifled quickly through his first, then second, desk drawers. When he found what he was looking for, he flourished it at Harry. It was a dull grey pamphlet, not embellished in any way, and Snape was holding it out loosely with as little of his hand touching as if he thought Harry’s general madness might infect him.

“Take this” He sneered “And get out of my classroom”

They fled.

When Hermione, Ron and Draco pressed him further for information he simply pressed the flimsy excuse that it was for ‘research’.

Hermione turned to the final pages of her notebook and began the list _‘Harry potter; Werewolf???’._

* * *

_Dear Moony, _

_No one should have to face the moon alone. _

_Please use this money to keep yourself safe. Trusted distributor highlighted in the leaflet._

_Best wishes, _

_A Friend_

* * *

When Hermione had finally gotten around to writing her dad for a new notebook, she’d erred on the safe side and asked if he could send her multiple. The package arrived promptly with three A-4 ruled note-books and a packet of ball-point pens. She loved her dad.

Harry and Draco both eyed the package with interest. Draco because he’d never actually seen a pen before and Harry because he suspected everyone of nefarious behaviour despite being the most suspicious person to ever exist.

“What’s all that for?” He asked, tomato ketchup from his bacon butty landing sloppily on his chin.

“Research” Hermione said sarcastically, causing Harry to blush lightly. He still wouldn’t explain the wolfsbane thing to her. All she’d gotten out of him was that it was another ‘seer’ thing. She’d ruled out him being a werewolf however when the full moon had come and gone without any suspicious behaviour. In fact, she could account for his whereabouts all night; He’d fallen asleep on the sofa in the common room, drooling.

Harry continued to look at the notebooks. After a few minutes, in which he finally managed to notice the ketchup and wipe it off and Ron actually managed to spill what seemed like half a bottle of the stuff down his white shirt, he cautiously spoke. “Would it be okay if I had one of those? Obviously, I’d pay you back ‘Mione” He hurriedly added “It’s okay to say no”

Hermione considered this for a moment. She sort of wanted to tell him no seen as it was indirectly his fault that she’d used up her first one so fast. Eventually she shrugged and passed him the green one and a biro. “Here, Harry. Consider it an early Christmas present” She frowned “Just don’t plan a murder in it” She frowned harder “Just don’t implicate me _when_ you plan a murder in it”

Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly while Draco and Ron just laughed.

A few days later, Hermione came across the notebook lying face down on the common room table. She picked it up, curious, but only caught a glimpse of the page before Harry returned from the bathroom and nervously snatched it back.

It was a to-do list. She caught the phrase _‘reveal Quirrell’_ and a word that began with _‘horc-‘. _The name _‘Cedric’_ was circled extensively in one corner of the page.

None of it enlightened her any further on Harry. Honestly, it just confused her more. Though she was pretty sure he just must have a crush on that third year Cedric Diggory.

Who could blame him?

* * *

Halloween finally came and with it a black cloud hanging over Harry’s head. If Hermione had thought a normal Harry was impossible to deal with, she’d obviously just jinxed herself.

She started to feel a lot more sympathetic towards him, however, when Draco quietly told her that Halloween was the day Harry’s parents had died.

She expected that Harry would want to spend the day somewhere private and not at the feast, and so wasn’t too surprised when he begged off. She wasn’t even that surprised when he asked her and Ron to stay back and keep him company. Ron had agreed slightly wistfully (He’d joyfully waxed poetic on the food he’d been told got served at the feast for an hour at lunch time the day before) but ready and happy to help out their friend. Draco would have been forced to sit with his friends at Ravenclaw table anyway during the feast, so it wasn’t like they were leaving him stranded and alone.

Hermione was surprised, however, when ten minutes after everyone else had left for the feast Harry suddenly sprung up from his seat (scattering the playing cards they’d been using all over the rug) and declared they were going on an adventure.

“Harry, you aren’t Peter Pan. Pick up the cards and sit down” Hermione said, no-nonsense as she tried to fish a lost ace out from under her armchair.

“Who in the morgana is Peter Pan?” Ron said, nose scrunched.

Harry pouted, hands on his hips in either an ironic facsimile of the aforementioned Lost boy or in a very good impression of a petulant five-year old. “Seriously. Ron, Hermione. I need your help in something”

Hermione frowned, abandoning her pursuit of the escapee playing card “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“If you need help shouldn’t we wait for Draco to be here too?” Ron said in confusion.

Harry shook his head frantically. Hermione guessed that this was his weird distrust of Draco coming into play. “No. No we should do this while everyone’s at the feast”

“Do _what_?” Hermione demanded.

Harry bit his lip, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I need help finding a lost thing”

Hermione stared at him. How could someone so frustratingly enigmatic come in the shape of a short eleven-year-old boy with messy hair and patched jeans? His glasses were even crooked for God’s sake.

“What have you lost?” Ron said in confusion.

Harry shook his head “_I_ didn’t lose it. It’s been lost for ages.”

“Just tell us what it is” Hermione huffed.

Harry paused for a moment, as if trying to decide how much he should say. Then, because he was a dramatic bastard, he let out a deep breathe and said “The lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw”

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure what this was. She couldn’t learn everything about magical history in two months. But Ron let out a whistle.

“Mate. Draco is going to kill you when he finds out you left him out of _this_”

Which was how they found themselves following an agitated Harry to the other side of the Seventh-floor. Hermione asked increasingly bewildered questions the whole time.

“But _Harry_” She said for what felt like the millionth time “How do you know where it’s going to be?”

Harry looked back at her with a cheeky grin and tapped his nose. “Ixnay on the uestion-qay, Hermione”

She hated him. She did. But also, there was a very large part of her that didn’t. And a not-small-enough part of her that was rather enjoying the thrilling butterflies she was getting already. She couldn’t shake the possibility that they might actually find a lost magical artefact. After all, unexplainable things happened around Harry Potter all the time.

When they reached a stretch of corridor that didn’t seem any more notable apart from the pretty cool tapestry of dancing trolls, Harry called them to a halt. “Here”

“Here?!” Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air “Harry you’ve gone absolutely barmy, you have”

Harry laughed like Ron had made a purposeful joke and then waved his hands in a shushing motion “Give me a sec and you’ll see, alright?”

Then he began to pace the corridor, eyes closed in concentration. Ron stared at her in disbelief and mouthed ‘barmy’ with twisting his finger in the air near his ear. Hermione was inclined to agree.

When Harry had paced three times he stopped and turned to the wall opposite the tapestry triumphantly. Ron and Hermione turned too and-

And there was a door.

“Oh my god” Said Hermione, who even after two months of living in a magical castle was still amazed by it daily.

“For Merlin’s sake” Said Ron, who didn’t like when there was credibility to Harry’s madness. It just encouraged him even more all the other times he was actually wrong.

Harry whooped “This, my good friends, is the Room of Requirement. It’ll become anything you need”

“Anything?” Hermione said dubiously.

“Yup” Harry said, popping the p and being altogether far to happy with himself. “Like if you really needed the bathroom it would become a toilet. Or a place to hide from Filch”

“Or a missing magical artefact directory, apparently” Ron said drily.

Harry grinned, moving forward and pushing down the handle on the door. They followed behind, Hermione still not entirely sure she believed Harry.

What was before them wasn’t impressive in the wondrous way that suddenly appearing magical doors were, but in the way that landfills were sometimes impressive due to their very size. There were stacks and stacks of- stuff. Every type of -stuff- that you could ever imagine. Furniture and books and clothing. Reams of paper and stacks of tea cups and ornate gilded mirrors. Feather boas and stuffed parrots and even a discarded diamond chandelier.

“This is the room of hidden things” Harry said quietly, suddenly sombre for some reason.

Ron was looking at him oddly now. “Seriously Harry, how is it that you know all this weird stuff?”

Harry shrugged awkwardly “Read it in a book”

Hermione let out a quiet squawk. She let it go. Then “Harry. How are we meant to find Ravenclaw’s tiara in all of this stuff?”

“That’s why I needed you too” Harry said embarrassed “We’re going to have to split up. Here”

He pulled out two pieces of torn-out notebook paper from his pocket and held them out. Hermione took one and unfolded it. It was an average-talent sketch of a pretty tiara.

“That’s what we’re looking for” He said, now looking nervous as if they might suddenly decide that being friends with him was obviously too much hassle and give up and leave “This is really important. I—I just really need your help”

Hermione and Ron shared a look, and then nodded. Split up and look for clues it was then. It was a good thing she’d always held Velma as a sort of personal hero.

* * *

Two weeks after the Halloween Fiasco (which rest assured Hermione had made many, many lists about. Harry had mysteriously absconded with the diadem after they’d found it and he’d taken them for a celebratory meal in the kitchens. Ron had been happy. Hermione had been suspicious.) Hermione wandered into the second-floor girls’ bathroom to find Harry chatting happily to moaning myrtle, leaning against one of the ornate bathroom sinks.

She turned around immediately and left before Harry Potter could drive her clinically insane at the tender age of twelve.

* * *

Three days before Christmas break (wherein Harry and Ron would be staying at her house due to Harry’s suggestion. Draco had been invited but had been forced to decline for obvious reasons) her DADA teacher was proven to be a death eater.

God, she hated it when Harry was right.

It went like this:

“Hey! Professor McGonagall” Harry had yelled from one end of the Transfiguration classroom. McGonagall had exasperatedly turned around and watched as Harry gleefully clasped the hand of a calmly passing by Professor Quirrell. Professor Quirrell Screamed in agony and fell to his knees clutching his hand. Suffice to say the hallway was cleared very quickly and both Harry and Quirrell were dragged to Dumbledore’s office.

In fifth lesson that same day a slightly singed Professor McGonagall had stormed into DADA just as everyone was considering calling time of death on that lesson. A very singed Harry Potter had trailed behind her. McGonagall had irately and succinctly explained to the class that Professor Quirrell wouldn’t be teaching here any more because actually it turned out he was slightly too evil to be working with children and also _no, Mr. Finnegan_ Defence against the Dark Arts was not cancelled for the rest of the year.

Then she had waltzed rather magnificently out of the room. Harry had murmured an abridged version of the events that transpired in Dumbledore’s office when he came to sit by them. Quirrell had apparently tried unsuccessfully to insist that there was nothing weird about spontaneously burning when a student touched your skin to an unconvinced McGonagall and Dumbledore. While Quirrell had been focused on them, harry had finally succeeded at whipping Quirrell’s turban off his head to reveal— You-know-who’s face merged with the back of the professor’s head. After an intense scuffle that had left half of Dumbledore’s office on fire, the three non-evil occupants of the room had been left with an unconscious Quirrell and absolutely no clue at all where You-know-who had gone. Harry told them that he could have sworn he saw some sort of magical cloud flow into and threw the flames but honestly Hermione thought that sounded fanciful. The whole thing sounded fanciful. And creepy.

A bashful Harry at grinned at Hermione (who was banging her head against the desk), Ron (who was gaping like a fish) and Draco (who was quite possibly crying into his hands. Out of frustration or amusement it shall never be known).

That was how they finished out their first term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

Ron was finishing off the last piece of shortbread (his fifth in the last hour) (“Hermione! Who knew muggles could cook so good _without _magic?”) when Harry suddenly shot up from dawdling on Hermione’s plush bedroom floor with is Plan Face on. No good ever came of Harry’s Plan Face.

They’d had three rather marvellous days under Granger hospitality so far. Hermione’s mum and dad had been exceptionally pleased that Hermione had already made such strong friends, though of course a little baffled that they were all boys. The Granger’s professions certainly supplemented a big enough house so that Harry and Ron could sleep in the spare room, which calmed Patrick Granger’s nerves about the whole situation.

They’d been ice-skating at a local lake which always froze over (though this claim, which was plastered across the lakes picturesque advertisements, always prompted a rant about the coming effects of global warming from Hermione) and had made cookies and had watched every Christmas film under the sun. They had also consumed far, far too much hot chocolate. Christmas was the only time of year that the Grangers let refined sugar into their household.

They’d simply been taking a couple hours to relax with her dads trusty Christmas songs mixtape on in the back ground. Hermione was reading, Ron was eating and Harry, apparently, was _planning_.

“No” Hermione said before Harry could get any words out. She calmly turned the page of her novel. _A Christmas Carol-_ which she re-read every year even though she wasn’t the biggest Dickens fan.

_‘You may be an undigested bit of beef-‘ _Scrooge was moaning as Harry began to pout. Hermione sighed. She was honestly far too much of a pushover.

“Sorry, Harry. What are you planning now?” She said, resigned. Ron snorted from the other side of the room.

Harry pouted harder “Who says I’m planning?”

“_Har_ry” Ron teased “Last term alone you got a teacher fired, found a man who everyone had assumed dead for a decade and discovered the Lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. Which, by the way, you still haven’t told us what you did with. You’re always planning”

Harry had the look on his face of a man who desperately wanted to dispute something he knew was true.

“All I was going to say was that we should go into London”

“London?” Hermione said, looking up in actual interest “Why ever for?”

“Well. I thought we could go to the national history museum”

Hermione tried very hard to hold back a squeal of excitement. Hermione failed. Ron’s hands flew to his ears to protect his hearing from decibels only known to dogs.

“A museum!” Hermione crowed “Oh, Har_ry_. I’ve never liked you more”

Maybe she could start to like Harry’s Plan Face.

* * *

Never trust Harry Potter’s Plan Face.

She’s honestly thought they were having a perfectly normal day. The Granger’s and their guests had caught the train into the city early that morning. They’d had a lovely breakfast, a quick tour of the usual tourist traps, a lovely lunch, and then on to the main event. Hermione’s current raison d’etre. The Natural History Museum in all its glory.

Two hours later, Hermione had been shaken out of her educational stupor by a tugging n her sleeve. She looked over at Harry in confusion. She hadn’t even finished what she was reading about fossils.

“What?” She huffed quietly, because Hermione Granger thought that this museum deserved the same reverence as her sacred library.

Harry didn’t say anything, just jerked his head at where Ron was sitting fascinated by a pamphlet about Dinosaurs on the other side of the room. He tugged her hand until she deigned to follow him over.

“Harry. What?” She hissed.

“Just come on, Hermione. I’ll explain in a minute” He said. She’d assumed he’d stop when they reached Ron, but instead he just grabbed a confused Ron’s elbow and started tugging at him too. He led the both, protesting of course, into the next exhibit before finally stopping and spinning around to face them.

“Are you certifiably insane Harry Potter?” Hermione said. She perhaps got too heated over museums. It was a trigger spot for her.

Harry just snorted. “Sorry, Hermione. But we need to give your parents the slip” She let out a garbled noise and he hurried on “They’ve been taking as long as you at every display, so I’d say we’ve got a good hour and a half before they notice we’ve actually gone. Even then they’ll probably just think you’ve gotten stuck reading about palaeontology somewhere”

“Go. Where” She said through gritted teeth.

Harry bit his lip. “Okay. This explanation is going to have to be quick” He ran his hand through his hair roughly, leaving it looking a little bit like he’d been electrocuted. “There are objects of importance. Six of them. And I _need _to get them or something bad will happen in the future” He glanced at Ron and winced “Erm. I’m guessing. Anyway. The diadem is one, but there’s another one in an abandoned house about 20 minutes from here. If we dash and get it, then come back, that’ll be two I’ve got”

Hermione and Ron stared at him. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him. She did believe him. But she could also tell when she was being condescended too and when someone was omitting parts of the truth.

And also just a little part of her didn’t believe him.

“If we go do this for you, you’re going to owe us so much” Ron said, sighing and shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you used a museum to lure me into another one of your plots” Hermione groaned, tugging at the box braids that her aunty had put in for her the other day to help stop her hair from frizzing in potions.

Harry looked honestly upset with himself “Look, I know. I’m being a really bad friend. It’s just—I haven’t got anyone else”

It was the look on Harry’s face that finally convinced her. He looked positively crushed. She looked into his eyes and saw a boy who was truly doing the best he could, even if his best sometimes fell short.

“Fine” she relented “But if we get caught I’m telling my parents you’re a bad influence on me”

A short trip on the underground and a walk later (during which Hermione clutched her tote bag very tightly and kept close to an equally overwhelmed Ron) they found themselves standing in front of a crescent shaped cul-de-sac of posh three-story town houses. They were the types of houses that Russian oligarchs bought and never lived in but that no one else could ever actually afford.

“Why is there a number 13 but not a number 12?” Hermione wondered in confusion. She’d seen streets that missed out on numbering a house 13, but not 12. What was wrong with the number 12?

Harry gave a short laugh. Hermione looked past Ron to see him. He was staring rather pitifully at the house. His eyes were glistening a little. “You’re right, Hermione. It is stupid. Welcome to Number 12 Grimmauld Place”

When Hermione looked back, there was suddenly a whole new townhouse squeezing itself between numbers 11 and 13. It had a shade darker bricks then the rest of the row and when the door appeared it was a deep black compared to the other houses London-red front doors. The windows were obviously grimy even from here.

“Wow” Ron said in appreciation. “That is cool”

“Who lives here?” Hermione asked Harry softly.

“My godfather” Harry said distractedly, and before either of them could parse this he was striding towards the door “Come on”

_He was- is- he is my godfather. _That’s what Harry had said of Sirius Black. She wondered if it was a good idea to enter a convicted murderers house without permission. Even if the conviction was more likely than not wrongful. She just sighed and followed Harry anyway. This was becoming a bad habit.

The door was unlocked when Harry went to open it. She supposed you didn’t much have to worry about crime when your house was literally invisible to anyone who didn’t know it was there.

The opened door revealed a long, dusty corridor. The decor seemed to have been chosen to specifically scream _‘beware ye who enter here’_ and it managed to make even the long, high ceiling-ed Georgian corridor feel cramped. The layer of dust was so thick that the first step Harry took sent a cloud into the air.

“Kreacher!” Harry called softly into the emptiness, voice tinged with tense worry.

Hermione was about to ask why Harry had taken to shouting random words into empty houses when a small, wrinkled creature with ginormous flapping ears wearing a teacloth appeared in the hallway out of thin air. It hurt her dignity a bit when she let out a strangled screech.

Harry let out a small breath but didn’t relax. “Did you just hear me call you? Or is elf magic as cool as the books said it was?” Harry said with a false lightness.

The thing let out a frog like croak, like it hadn’t spoken in years, before addressing Harry “Kreacher is serving you, Master. Though he is not knowing you at all”

“What is he?” Hermione said, incapable of keeping quiet. Kreacher’s head whipped towards her, fury filling his face and he began to open his mouth but—

“Kreacher I order you not to wake up Mrs. Black’s Portrait” Harry hissed, and then “And don’t insult Hermione” He added, pointing at Hermione to indicate her.

Kreacher was obviously sulking now and he let out a low despondent moan “But master is bringing mu—”

“Kreacher I order you not to say that word” Harry snapped, real anger colouring his voice now. He took a deep breathe “And now” He paused, like he was scared “I need you to bring me Regulus’ locket”

Kreacher let out a second of what was sure to have been an almighty screech, before slamming his hands over his mouth. The whole room waited in silence for a few seconds. Harry and Kreacher were listening out for something and when it didn’t come, they both relaxed.

“You don’t have to punish yourself Kreacher” Harry muttered, rubbing his hand over his brow and looking far older than his eleven years “But I do need the locket”

The pitiful creature seemed torn, both physically and mentally. “Master Regulus is ordering me to destroys it” he croaked.

Harry nodded “You’ve done really well, Kreacher. But I’m going to destroy it. I need you to give it to me so that I can do what Regulus wanted”

This seemed to mollify Kreacher slightly “Master promises?”

Harry nodded. “I promise you, Kreacher”

The el vanished with out a crack but Hermione hardly had the chance to open her mouth and ask a question before he was bag, holding what looked like a parcel of old, crushed black velvet.

He held it out to Harry preciously. “Regulus be giving his life for his locket” he said mournfully. Hermione desperately wanted to know who this regulus was.

Harry nodded gravely and took the parcel from him. “Thank you, Kreacher. Regulus would be very proud of you”

The creature preened slightly. It was a very strange thing to witness.

With a last sorrowful look around the hallway and up the stairs, Harry turned on his heels and walked through Hermione and Ron and back out the door.

Hermione and Ron exchanged another worried look before following quickly after him. Ron threw a harried “bye” over his shoulder at Kreacher.

“Seriously. What was that?” Hermione hissed to Ron on the front steps. Harry had walked over to the small green in the centre of the crescent and had sat down on the ground heavily. They followed after him.

“Have a little tact ‘Mione” Ron said, snorting lightly “That was a house elf. They’re like—for cleaning houses and doing wizards’ bidding and stuff. Only really rich or really old families have them”

They both plonked them selves down on either side of Harry.

“Well sorry I wasn’t born magical, Ronald” Hermione snapped “Some of us don’t know what’s happening at all times” she said pointedly at harry.

Ron snorted again “Nah. Even Harry is mostly clueless”

“Especially Harry” Harry said, groaning and putting his head in his hands.

“What’s all this about, mate” Ron asked quietly. “Aren’t we a bit young to be doing stuff like this without, I dunno, a supervising adult?”

Harry rubbed a hand over his face harshly “That’s what I’ve been thinking the whole time” He muttered.

They were silent for a few minutes before Harry despairingly said, “If I promise that one day soon I’ll explain everything, will you guys just let this one go?”

Hermione and Ron met eyes over Harry’s head. Sometimes it seemed like all they did was look at each other in confusion or frustration over Harry’s behaviour. Now they both shared matching looks of concern.

“Alright, mate” Ron said first “But let’s keep all the crazy to a minimum next term alright?”

Harry snorted, knocking his shoulder into Ron’s jovially “You’re the best, mate”

Hermione gave Harry a tight smile when he grinned at her with megawatts. He didn’t seem to notice that she wasn’t returning it equally as brightly.

Neither of them seemed to notice that she hadn’t actually agreed to the deal any more. Just because she wasn’t planning on bugging Harry about it didn’t mean she was going to let it go.

* * *

Hermione was more withdrawn around Harry in the last week of the Christmas holidays. Sure, they were spending time together constantly; Watching films, going on walks, talking mindlessly about anything and everything for hours on end. But Hermione was always cautious now.

Harry’s strangeness had been sort of amusing in the beginning. Now she was just a little bit worried that it was going to end up putting all of their friends in danger.

The problem she had was that she couldn’t just simply stop being friends with Harry or start disliking him for what he might cause. Harry was her best friend. Someone who seemed to fully accept her, warts and all, for the first time in her life. They’d only known each other for three months but she already knew that losing Harry Potter as a friend would make her life just a little bit worse all round.

She needed to find out what he was hiding. Then she needed to make him one hundred percent better at whatever it was before it got him seriously injured. Or worse. Ex_pelled_.

Harry had hidden the velvet package in the back of the rarely-used garden shed, under the plant pots. Hermione had taken a secret trip out there one night to look at it, but she’d gotten such a terrible feeling just being in the presence of the package that she hadn’t worked up the courage to pick it up and look inside it. Harry hadn’t yet revealed anything as he’d said he would, and Ron had seemed to push the incident from his mind almost entirely.

Hermione had almost entirely filled up her second spare notebook at this point so it was lucky that her dad had gotten her more for Christmas. She’d tried to get another look at Harry’s own notebook, but he’d become much better at keeping a close eye on it ever since he’d found Hermione holding it. It was probably just full of Harry waxing poetical about Cedric Diggory’s eyes. Hermione was going to be a good friend about that and not push it until Harry wanted to talk to her about it himself.

She couldn’t say the same about the rest of Harry’s secrets.

On the last day of the holiday, the groups frantic packing (frantic on the parts of Harry and Ron and astutely organised on the behalf of Hermione) was interrupted by the doorbell. They only vaguely looked up at the sound, Ron still fascinated by anything electrical that happened in the Granger household.

“Harry” Mrs. Granger called up the stairs, sounding confused “Ron, Hermione. Come downstairs a minute”

The group exchanged intrigued glances, before filling out of Hermione’s bedroom door and onto the landing. Harry, who’d left first, froze stock still at the top of the stairs causing Ron to slam into his back. Hermione peered over his shoulder

Behind her mother in the hallway were two men, obviously wizards even in their muggle dress. One was tall, sandy haired and worn looking. He smiled kindly up at the three of him. The man in front of him was thin, with chopped black scraggly hair to his chin and an attire consisting of all black. He was looking at Harry like he was the son.

“Harry” The man said, his voice hoarse as if from disuse “I’m—”

But he was cut of by Harry’s cry of joy as he flung himself down the stairs and wrapped his arms around the man tightly. He was so thin that Harrys short arms only just missed meeting around the back.

“Oof” The man said, staring down at the boy in surprise “I’m Sirius” he said, though it came out questioning.

Harry stepped back, embarrassed but seemingly unwilling to go to far from the man. As Hermione and Ron had descended the stairs to join the group in the hallway, Hermione could see the glistening tears beginning to form in Harry’s eyes. The two men also looked slightly damp around the eyes.

“Sorry” Harry said “Erm. It’s just I’ve seen pictures” He shrugged awkwardly “I know who you are”

“You found Peter” Sirius said, staring down at the boy in wonderment. Hermione’s mother was still watching the scene with slight confusion.

Harry shrugged, running a hand roughly through his hair. The two men’s eyes alighted upon the gesture.

“It was nothing” Harry said awkwardly “How long have you been back? I’m sorry it took so long”

Sirius let out a weak laugh “Don’t worry kid. I used to work for the ministry. I know how bad they are at paperwork.”

“He’s been back for a few days” The man behind Sirius said. He held out his hand to Hermione’s mother and smiled at the kids “I’m Remus Lupin, by the way. We were very good friends of Harry’s parents”

“You’re my godfathers” Harry said, a note of stubbornness in his voice.

Remus seemed slightly surprised by this statement. “Well. Only Sirius legally”

“But it would have been the both of us if you’re parents had had their way” Sirius said, giving Remus a weighted glance.

“We’ve been unable to see Harry for a long time…due to unforeseen circumstances” Remus explained to her interested mother “But Harry and I have been in contact these past few months and Sirius’…circumstances… just recently changed for the better”

Ron and Hermione shot each other amused glances over Remus’ euphemisms.

Sirius bent down onto his knees so that he was Harry’s height “Harry” He said nervously “I know you live with your aunt, but..” He bit his lip “We’d like you to come stay with us over the summer”

“And then permanently after that if you like it” Remus said, equally nervous.

“Oh, how lovely” Hermione’s mum exclaimed.

Ron grinned, gripping Hermione’s hand out of excitement. Hermione knew that Harry had told Ron some about his fraught home life.

Hermione just kept watching Harry’s face. A blooming joy began to dawn across his face. The sun coming out, finally, after months of rain.

That was the first time Hermione ever saw Harry cry. She hoped that every time afterwards would be for equally happy occasions.

* * *

Sirius and Remus remained in contact with Harry via a constant stream of letters all through the next term. Hermione’s mother also informed her that she’d struck up a friendship with the couple who had been invited to the Granger’s most recent potluck. Hermione wasn’t sure how her mother would feel if she knew that Sirius was an ex-convict, but she supposed that what her mother knew wouldn’t hurt her.

Sirius had been released by the ministry under conditions, Harry told them. He had to report to his probation officer weekly and couldn’t leave the country. A lock had been placed on his wand so that he would only be able to use minor spells. He wouldn’t be completely exonerated of his crimes and allowed to live a free life until Peter had been given a trial and officially convicted of the crime. Harry informed her that Dumbledore had fought for this situation, as the ministry had wanted to keep Sirius in prison until the trial was over, even though that could take months. It was the only time Hermione had seen Harry look anything but wary towards the headmaster.

Term began after Christmas without much fanfare. Draco regaled them happily with many re-enactments of is stuffy pureblood Christmas. They were promptly asked to leave the library for laughing too loudly. It was a sad day in Hermione’s life.

Their new DADA teacher was Professor Vance. Harry treated her with suspicion at first as was par for the course.

Harry would put his hand up to ask her questions such as “What’s a death eater’s favourite colour?” and “are you or are you not a secret death eater in disguise?”

Professor Vance, who was a tall and rather intimidating woman, began to simply ignore Harry’s raised hands until he reluctantly put them down. It wasn’t until a few weeks before valentines that Harry relented and began to warm to the Professor. 

“You know, Harry, I knew your mother rather well” Vance said in her thick Irish accent. She’d been making her rounds about the classroom assessing everybody’s progress on the task. She’d paused at their table to correct Neville’s wand movements before his _Petrificus Totalus _accidentally took someone’s eyes out.

Harry looked up at the woman with badly hidden curiosity “And was that before or after you were an agent of you-know-who?” He snarked, but it was weak at best.

Surprisingly Vance just laughed “She was a few years younger than me, actually. I tutored her in Defence. She claimed it was her weakest class, but she still got easy E’s so I’m not so sure.” Vance gave Harry a kind look “She was a brilliant witch. You must have gotten that from her. Your dad was brilliant too, I’m sure, but he was no Lily Evans. Her death was a loss to the whole world, but most especially to you, kid”

Professor Vance called them all kid, but there was a special inflection in the way she said it to Harry. Hermione had often thought that when the professor looked at Harry, it seemed that she was seeing someone else. She wondered if Vance had called Harry’s mother kid.

Harry looked conflicted for a few moments, but finally his expression relaxed. “Thank you, Professor. I wish I’d known her”

“Well” Vance said, whipping her long black braid over her shoulder and beginning to walk towards Pansy Parkinson who was hitting her wand in frustration against the desk “I’m always here if you want to hear a story about her”

Hermione stopped having to listen to all of Harry’s long speculative rants about how evil Vance was sure to be after that. When Harry raised his hands in lessons for the rest of the year it was only ever to ask a genuine question.

* * *

Hermione had thought it was pretty weird that Harry had followed her into the second-floor girls’ bathroom after potions that day, but she’d just chalked it up to general Harry weirdness. He probably just wanted to catch up on all the school gossip with Myrtle.

Hermione had started her period in January and preferred to come to Myrtle’s bathroom for privacy during those days. Myrtle was usually pretty happy to join in on all of Hermione’s PMS fuelled angry rants while Hermione washed her hands. It was pretty good stress relief.

While in the cubicle Hermione could swear she heard the sound of stone scraping against stone. She really hoped to harry wasn’t destroying school property while she was present.

When she went to wash her hands Harry was hurriedly shutting his bag and standing awkwardly in front of the sinks.

Hermione paused and stared at him suspiciously “What did you do”

“Nothing” Harry said unconvincingly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but then realised she really didn’t have the energy right now to care about his plots. She rolled her eyes and went to wash her hands next to a fidgety Harry.

For a second she could swear she saw the sink moving, before she blinked and everything was normal again. Huh.

* * *

Draco’s actual birthday was unfortunately only the day before exams would begin. Fortunately for Hermione, Draco was as focused as she was and so seemed perfectly content with letting the day pass without much thoroughfare and with them mostly hunkered down in their library spot studying.

For Ron’s birthday back in March they’d held a little party back there in the middle of the night. Harry had ferried them all around with his cloak (a gift he’d received anonymously on his return after Christmas) and Hermione had supplied a silencing charm. They’d had chocolate cake supplied by the house elves, told alternating muggle and wizarding ghost stories and then rounded it out with a round of happy birthday and Oh, he’s a jolly good fella. They’d all, giggling, stuffed themselves under the cloak and ran when Ron had insisted that he’d heard Filch coming, even though they never actually saw him as they ran back to Ravenclaw to drop Draco off.

Hermione had sworn that on their way past the forbidden third floor corridor she’d heard growling, but Harry had dismissed it as Hermione just imagining things because of the ghost stories. Hermione had thought that if even Harry Potter was telling you that you were being ridiculous, you were probably being ridiculous.

Back in September when she’d turned twelve, they hadn’t even known each other that well but Ron had still presented her with a candle lit cupcake at breakfast and that had been the first day Draco had sat at Gryffindor table with them. He’d spent the whole time looking over his shoulder waiting for someone to tell him off. Harry had presented her with a badly wrapped package which had turned out to be a very pretty blue parrot feather quill.

So, Hermione didn’t want Draco’s birthday to go completely unacknowledged just because it was badly timed. On the last day of exams they had the afternoon free. Hermione pretended to have forgotten something back in Gryffindor tower right after lunch and asked Draco to come with her to get it. He’d been pretty confused but agreed anyway. This allowed for Harry and Ron to dash of after they’d left and prepare.

On their way back down from Gryffindor tower Hermione lead them instead to an abandoned classroom on the ground floor, much to Draco’s further confusion. Hermione had lied and told him that she’d heard a rumour there was a boggart down there and she wanted to see it. Draco had accepted this is just one of the many extreme things Hermione was prepared to do n the name of education.

Instead of a boggart, Draco opened the door to a flurry of charmed confetti (which floated back to the ceiling after it had fallen so as to fall again) and Ron and Harry shouting Happy Birthday in his face as Ron tried and failed to pop a Party-popper.

“My birthday was last week” Draco said, stunned.

Hermione laughed. “But we couldn’t celebrate it last week! We had to have a late party”

“Here” Harry said grinning and handing Draco a sparkly wrapped (thankfully wrapped by Hermione) present “It’s from all of us”

Hermione thought there was certainly a marked change from how Harry had treated Draco at the start of the year. Every now and then the two would even deign to spend one on one time together. Hermione saw this as an obvious spelling of the apocalypse.

Draco was blushing happily as he took the gift “You really didn’t have to do this for me, you guys”

Ron snorted “Wait till you see what it is before you thank us mate”

Hermione elbowed him “Shut up, Ronald”

Hermione had chosen the sort of gift that she thought Draco would like the most. Ron had said that it was too boring to be a present, but then again Hermione and Draco tended to be pretty boring to anyone who didn’t understand him. The sparkly wrapping paper fell away to reveal a beautifully bound set of Alberta Toothill’s _One Witches Duel vol. 1,2&3. _Draco gasped in delight. Hermione smiled smugly at Ron.

“Well it’s a book for girls” Ron muttered stubbornly.

“It’s a book about the first woman to win the All-England Duelling competition in history. And she was one of the greatest duellers of all time. These books have some of the best duelling tips in the genre, but most people look them over because they’re written by a woman” Draco said, absorbed in feeling the spines of the book.

Hermione’s grin was cheek splitting. She loved her friends “Which is obviously absolutely absurd”

Harry nodded sagely “Yeah. Hermione’s terrifying enough and she’s only a first year. Imagine what she could do as a trained dueller”

They all giggled, and the afternoon dissolved into sunny bliss, the party finally spilling out onto the grounds after the confetti spells started to malfunction and form mountains of the stuff on the floor. Hermione had always assumed that her life would follow a more subdued, lonely heroine plot. Like a Brontë novel. Instead, she seemed to have given up misty moors and being misunderstood for entering the world of Enid Blyton. She couldn’t say she was especially put out about this. By three, they’d decided that it had been long enough since they’d scoffed all of the birthday cake (vanilla, as was Draco’s favourite) that they should go swimming.

It was in the lake, in transfigured swimming costumes, that Hermione had a sudden moment that she would have called numinous if she hadn’t been a staunch atheist.

In truth, she was inclined to call it divine only because she’d had the misfortune as to never have experienced it before.

It was the feeling of having friends, and not being worried that they would give up on her.

She grinned, and splashed Ron in the face.

* * *

At the end of term feast, the group positioned themselves strategically with all three Gryffindors on the bench facing the Ravenclaw table and Draco right ahead of them. They spent the whole dinner (including Dumbledore’s slightly frazzled speech) in an elaborate game of charades, with a few confused Hufflepuffs caught in the crossfire before they eventually gave in and moved out of the way.

With clear sight lines the group woefully commiserated their mutual loss through exaggerated gagging gestures and eye rolls. The Slytherins celebrated obnoxiously all night.

Harry, strangely, seemed oddly Happy about the results of the house cup “Good for them” He said, smiling kindly.

* * *

There were no lessons on the last day of term, but the train still wasn’t scheduled to leave until 11 am. Hermione decided it was the perfect time to do what she’d been planning all year.

Hermione had often hit the same wall during her twelve year and ongoing career as A Nosy Person. At one point or another, you would run into a situation that wouldn’t reveal the truth to you no matter how much you snooped or researched or made lists. In these situations, she found you had two options; 1. Let it go; 2. Trap the annoying truth with-holder in a room and bombard them with questions until they crack under pressure and tell you what she want to know.

Hermione wasn’t really in the business of letting things go.

Hermione had managed to lure Harry into an abandoned class room by half past nine, after she’d nagged him sufficiently enough that he’d finally packed his things. She was ashamed to admit that she used the exact same boggart excuse as she’d used on Draco. Thankfully being reckless was Harry’s bread and butter and so he happily stepped foot into the empty room.

Sometimes she wondered if she needed to talk to Harry about not just stepping blindly in to things. But that would make things so much harder for her.

Hermione followed Harry, shut the door and then cast colloportus. Harry spun around upon hearing the distinctive sucking sound of a locking spell being put in to place.

“Er, Hermione?” He said, eyebrows climbing his forehead. “What’s up?”

Hermione laughed exasperatedly and grabbed a chair, pulling it over so that it was positioned in front of the door. She plopped herself down on it and gestured for Harry to do likewise. He just stared at her warily. “Don’t worry Harry. I’m not a death eater or a vampire or whatever else it was you were convinced Professor Vance was. But no, sorry. There isn’t actually a boggart in here”

“Are you going to rough me up for information, Hermione Granger?” Harry said, Joking nervously. He pushed his hair back from his forehead, but it just flopped back down into his eyes anyway.

“Actually I was just going to ask you” She replied, voice flat.

Harry visibly gulped. Then he sighed and reluctantly dragged a chair so that he was situated a few feet from Hermione.

“Is this really necessary?” He said, defeated.

She shrugged, crossing her legs up onto her chair and leaning forward. “It is when you refuse to ever tell the truth”

“I don’t lie” Harry spat.

“You don’t have to lie to not be telling the truth”

Harry nodded in concession “Fine. But I cant tell you the truth”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it could be dangerous for you”

“Did someone tell you that it would be dangerous for someone else to know?”

Harry frowned “No. No one else knows anything”

“So everything you’re doing is just guess work?”

Harry ran a hand over his eyes “You don’t know the half of it” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “So It’s probably actually safer for you to tell me. No offence, Harry, but you aren’t exactly a master chess player”

“If I wanted a master chess player, shouldn’t I just go and tell Ron?”

Hermione shrugged, giving up a half smile “You can go tell Ron if you want. But I’m the one who has you currently trapped in a classroom.” He laughed “Harry. I want to help you”

“I believe you” Harry said, the green eyes that contrasted so heavily with his brown skin boring into her own chocolate eyes. He was looking for something “I’m just not sure which you I’m actually believing”

She pursed her lips, trying to follow what he was saying “Why would there be two me’s?”

“Because I’m a time traveller” Harry stated bluntly, no indication in his tone that he was actually revealing an astounding thing “And therefore I’ve known you before”

“You know me in the future?” Hermione exclaimed, thoughts scattered in a thousand directions.

Harry shook his head, but the pursed his lips in frustration “Well, sort of. It’s like..” He sighed, heavily “It’s not like Back to the Future time travel”

Hermione had only seen that movie once, but she nodded anyway for him to go in.

“It’s like I lived out everything the first time, okay” Harry said, getting animated in his attempt to have Hermione understand “I had the first eleven years with my aunt and uncle, then I went to Hogwarts. I did all seven years at Hogwarts. With you. And with Ron and Draco and everyone else that’s here “ He frowned “Though we weren’t friends with Draco last time. I’m, er, pretty surprised that happened actually” He rubbed his temple sheepishly “And then I—” Harry stopped. He turned to stare out of the window. It faced out onto the front lawns. The forbidden forest loomed large on the horizon “Then I died”

Hermione’s breathe caught in her throat. Whatever she’d expected (from werewolf to eldritch being) she hadn’t expected that.

“When I was seventeen” Harry clarified “May of our seventh year” He frowned again “Not that we spent much time at school that year”

Hermione was going to unpick that statement later. In that moment she said “Where did you die?” instead.

“Here. At Hogwarts” Harry said gruffly, eyes still trained on the forest. He was silent for a few long moments and Hermione let him gather up the courage to finish the story. “There were…. extenuating circumstances around my death. The way it happened, it would have probably meant I could have survived. When I died I went to this heaven sort of place” He finally looked at her again to see if she was following “I guess it was a sort of purgatory or waiting room, I don’t now. I’ve been looking up a lot of afterlife theories in the library all year but I’m still not certain. It looked like kings cross station, but empty and stark white. And I knew somehow that if I wanted to I could just….go back” Harry’s hands were twisting in his lap and Hermione desperately wished she was close enough to reach out and hold his hand “I knew I had to go back to you all and so that’s what I did. What I tried to do, anyway”

He went silent again. Hermione pressed him gently “How did you end up…. Time travelling?”

“I had become something called the master of death at that point” Harry said, snorting lightly “It’s like… Have you ever read Lord of the Rings? Well its that sort of ‘one ring to rule them all’ thing. I’d collected these objects” He shrugged awkwardly “Anyway I think that having that power or whatever it is meant that when I had this fleeting thought” his voice cracked “that I wished I could see my family again. It. Well it let that happen. Instead of waking up back where I died I—”

“You appeared out of no where on Platform 9 and ¾ last September, eleven years old again” Hermione supplied, mind flickering back to the first time she’d seen Harry all the way back at the beginning of the year.

He smiled ruefully at her “I knew you hadn’t let it go”

“I haven’t let any of it go. You’re terrible at subtlety Harry James Potter”

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you my full name” Harry said rolling his eyes “You just use it to shame me”

Hermione shrugged lightly “So. The diadem and whatever we got from that house in London, a locket was it? Anyway, those objects. Are they the objects that you’re talking about? Are you trying to get back?”

Harry shook his head “No. The objects that I think got me here were called hallows. The things we got this year are called Horcruxes. They’re much, much worse”

“Very alliterative of your narrative Harry” Hermione said.

“Yeah well, I can always count on my life to be interesting at least” He said wryly “They’re pieces of Voldemort’s soul”

Hermione choked on air. They were going to have to also have a talk about revealing world-altering information with tact. “And where in god’s name are they now?”

Harry blushed and ducked his head “Er. Myrtle’s bathroom?”

Hermione threw her hands into the air. She sort of wished she believed in god just so she could renounce him right then and there. “You left dangerous magical objects in a girls lavatory?”

“Actually I dropped dangerous magical objects down a password operated secret passage way hidden in a girls lavatory” Harry said, voice sarcastic even though she was sure it was the truth.

“You are so goddamn strange” She told him. They stared at each other, expressionless, for a few moments. The corners of Harry’s mouth twitched up. She let out a snort which she tried uselessly to hide behind her hand. Then they were both laughing loudly, heads buried in there hands.

After they’d both sobered, and Hermione had given Harry a much needed hug, Harry looked at her wonderingly.

“I’ve been really lucky twice now to have you as my friend Hermione” He said gratefully.

She patted him on the shoulder “I’m pretty certain that both times I was just being dragged along out of obligation.”

He grinned at her “That mean you’re going to help me out this time too Granger?”

She cuffed his hair lightly and rolled her eyes “Trial period Potter. I reserve the right to back out of your ridiculousness at any time”

He chuckled “Good thing for me your too nosy to ever do that”

She shoved him. He laughed. She unlocked the door just to have something that meant she could turn around and hide her smile.

She was pretty relieved that he wasn’t an eldritch demon.

* * *

On the train back the four of them happily squashed into a carriage at the back of the train. A lot had changed in a year. Ron was now rat-less and relaxed in himself. Draco’s hair had thankfully been released from its gel prison (a Ron suggestion) and he now had actual friends instead of just people who followed him around. Harry was visibly lighter this train ride then he had ever been before. He would be spending the summer with a real family, free to see his friends at any time, and with someone who finally knew his secret. All three boys grinned the whole way home.

Hermione Granger had changed too. Not in herself, perhaps, but in the way she saw herself. She found herself grinning endlessly at her boys. In only a year they had taught her that she was someone who could be liked.

Arriving on the platform was bittersweet. It didn’t feel like going home to Hermione but instead as if she was abandoning the first place she’d ever felt truly accepted.

But she would be back. There was nothing in any universe that could stop her.


	2. Ginny Weasley and the Confines of Femininity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who interacted with the first chap of the fic! Encouragement keeps me thriving. heads up i was both sick and hungover at different periods writing this chap so i apologise if it sucks. the sophomore curse ya know. if you're here for shippy stuff, i promise you that will be very much present in later chapters. 
> 
> At many points in this chapter Ginny becomes the living embodiment of the Pepe Silvia scene from Its Always Sunny
> 
> bolded text is from Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets, which i do not own.

_Dear Ron, _

_Honestly mate this summer is shaping up to be the best summer of my life (though of course it’s going to get much better after I can see you and Hermione!)_

_Remus and Sirius have been cleaning out Grimmauld place all year. Remember that house we went to last Christmas? Anyway, I promise it looks way better now than it did then. I keep telling Sirius that he has to be nicer to Kreacher or he’ll never help out, but he doesn’t listen and so they’ve had to do loads of cleaning and decorating themselves. There have been three paint fights already. You’d love it. Good thing they’ve got all of the Black family money and so don’t need jobs. I think they were both getting a little bored before I came though, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Sirius tried to go back to Auroring after the ministry clears his name. Whenever that happens._

_Remus should probably be a librarian. He’s just like Hermione and never has his nose out of a book. It’s nice though because he’s been reading some of the fiction books out loud to me when I’m in the room. He likes funny muggle books which I think you’d like too, so I sent ‘A Hitchhiker’s guide to the Galaxy’ along for you. Hope Errol makes it back to yours in one piece. _

_Remus had been looking after two cats when he lived up in Yorkshire before Sirius was released. Apparently, their owner died so Remus started feeding them and then they never left. They never give Sirius or Remus a moments piece which is funny because they both insist they’re dog-people. I called them Sam and Frodo because Remus was just calling them Cat 1 and Cat 2. Those names are from another muggle book Remus was reading, but it’s really long and I think sending it off with Errol might just finish the poor bird off for good. _

_There’s loads of spare rooms here so you can come stay over if you want. Hermione’s coming over next week for a sleepover. I think she’s got a whole two nights of research planned for this project we’re working on so I wouldn’t worry about missing out. If you’re mum warms up to the whole Sirius thing then you should stay over. The house has an extension charm on the back garden so it’s actually huge and Sirius has put all these charms on it so that we can get the brooms out and have a fly. _

_Anyway, hope that you’re having a good time at home. Can’t wait until I get to come stay in August! Sirius and Remus have planned a trip to Cornwall for the week I’m at yours. They keep talking like they’re just going to see historical sites and play monopoly but I’m pretty sure it’s a romantic getaway. I guess they think I’d be weird about it. _

_Write me back. Miss you, mate._

_Harry _

* * *

Ginny Weasley is sitting under the kitchen table, eating out of the jam jar with two fingers and definitely _not_ eavesdropping on her mum’s conversation. This is not a regular occurrence, she promises.

Anyway, usually it’s just her and mum in the house so there wouldn’t be anything to eavesdrop on. It’s been weird ever since Hogwarts got out in June. Suddenly there are all these people around the house. And sure, they _are_ her brothers. But still. She hardly gets a moments peace anymore.

And it’s not like she meant to eavesdrop. She’d just been doing her regular mid-morning sweep of the kitchen for food, still dressed in her pink pygmy puff pyjama’s and with her hair sticking up everywhere from sleep. She’d picked up the jam jar intending to slather it on some toast and eat in front of the wireless. Then she’d heard voices right outside the door, her mother’s and some men who were definitely _not_ people who lived in this house and so therefore _not_ people she wanted to see her in her PJ’s. Especially not these PJ’s which she’d gotten at age 7 and only kept because they were worn out to perfection. She should have just made a dash for the stairs, but the door knob was already turning and she thought, oh no, not th_is_, not _these pyjamas_, and then suddenly she was sliding under the kitchen table cloth and sitting under the table. The eating the jam thing with her fingers had just been a natural progression of events.

So no one could blame her for eavesdropping. After all it was her mum who kept insisting that Ginny’s self-consciousness was a natural part of puberty. She also kept insisting that Ginny’s penchant for mid-morning, mid-afternoon and late evening snacks was due to her being a ‘growing girl’ but Ginny was pretty sure it was just because she really liked food.

There were two men currently chatting to her mother in the kitchen. Her mother was doing some sort of household task, as she always was, and they were all drinking tea. There had been a big ceremony around the brewing and drinking of the tea. Ginny had noticed that there usually was when it came to adults.

Her mother kept referring to one of the men as ‘Remus, dear’ and the Remus, _dear_ in question had called the other man ‘Si’ and so that was what Ginny was calling them in her head.

Remus, _dear_ said “Molly, we know this has all been a massive shock-“

“More like an absolute bollocksing up”

“Si.” Remus, dear had said in the same exasperated voice her mum had just for her dad “Well, yes I suppose it has all been a big mess. Thank you for having tea with us”

“Well really boys, I was just being silly before” Her mother said, voice wobbly with embarrassment. Ginny thought this was pretty impressive as her mother hardly ever admitted her own wrongdoing “But you know how it is when you’ve believed one thing for so long. It’s a terrible shock to find out you were wrong. And then there’s the kids to think about of course”

“I’d never be a danger to your kids. Mol” Si said, slightly reproachful.

“Well yes. I’m aware of that now” Her mother said “But one can never be too cautious. But what with Harry and Ron being such close friends and you two taking custody of the poor boy, it really does make sense for us to touch base?”

“And your still okay with Harry staying here for a week in August? I know he’s excited”

“And we are really excited to stuff herself with clotted cream” Si joked.

Molly laughed “I’d love to have him, of course. Harry has been through far more than any 11-year-old should have to. He needs a bit of fun. The boys will see to that”

The rest of the conversation continued on into small talk and gossiping about mutual friends, but Ginny was hardly listening to any of it.

Harry Potter. Harry Potter, The Harry Potter, _the boy-who-lived,_ was going to be staying in this very house for a week. With her.

Ginny was surprised she didn’t faint into her jam jar. She had so much planning and so little time.

She was going to die prematurely at age ten from pure excitement, she just knew it.

“Ginny” A voice called her out of her stupor, and she realised suddenly that the kitchen was no longer invaded by strangers. Her mum sounded bemused as she said “Ginny you can come out from under the table now”

Ginny did, avoiding her mothers’ judging eyes and placing the half empty jam jar on the kitchen table before running up to her bedroom and promptly screaming into her pillow for three hours.

* * *

Ten years of being the younger and only sibling of six brothers had taught Ginevra Weasley (who had been only 5 years old when she realised the full extent of her hatred towards her full name) several important lessons that she would carry through her entire life.

  1. if you want food, you fight for it.

The Weasley child who leisurely strolled to dinner instead of rushing down the stairs, fighting elbow to stomach, didn’t eat. Well. Molly Weasley wouldn’t be caught dead letting any of her children go to bed with empty stomachs. _But_ if you didn’t fight, you didn’t get the best piece of beef. Or two Yorkshire puddings instead of one. Or to eat the iced finger with the most icing dripping down the sides. Ginny Weasley was a girl who always wanted the best, and through the trial and error of three meals a day versus six older siblings she had learned how to get it. Thankfully she had been blessed with sharp elbows.

  1. Ginny was never going to be able to keep up.

If Ginny wanted to beat her brothers in a race, she had to expend twice the energy that they did. If she wanted to join in any of the games they played, then she’d have to endure the same exact lecture; Ginny, you’re _too young_. Ginny, you’re not tall enough. Ginny, you’re a _girl_. Little sis. The _baby_.

  1. There was something wrong with being a girl.

Ginny knows that this isn’t what her brothers wanted to teach her. Charlie and Bill had good friends, like Tonks, who taught them all about girls and equality. Fred and George wouldn’t be caught dead saying a serious bad word about the chasers on the Gryffindor team. Even Ron wrote her all his first year about his new best friend Hermione, who he called ‘brilliant’ every two sentences.

But there are things you teach intentionally, and things you teach by your own unconscious action. It went the other way too. There were things you knew you knew, and there were truths that stayed hidden just under your thoughts for the whole of your life. A layer beneath your own skin that even you don’t know is there. Truths you learned before you were even old enough to remember the occasion, but which you always carried with you.

Ginny Weasley maybe didn’t know it consciously, and her brothers certainly didn’t teach it consciously, but she knew it either way.

Girls were weaker. Girls were less fun. They were nagging and prissy and proper. Girls were like her mother and enjoyed baking and cooking and knitting and cleaning. Ginny knew that she didn’t want to be like her mum, even if her mum was constantly hopeful that Ginny would one day suddenly declare that she wanted to learn all of Molly’s procured and collected recipes. If Ginny didn’t want to be like her mum, and if her mum was what all girls were, which Ginny thought must be true because she was the only other woman that Ginny spent consistent time with, then that meant she didn’t want to be a girl.

If girls were the way her brothers had taught her they were, then Ginny internalised that girls must be bad. This lesson, even more than not being able to keep up or needing to fight for food, was the one she would spend the rest of her life trying to unlearn.

It would prove to be pernicious, as all unwanted but well taught lessons are.

* * *

Ginny turned eleven years old, finally, before Harry Potter came to stay at the Burrow. Eleven felt no different than ten had. Molly pinned up Ginny’s Hogwarts letter with the six others on to the side of the well-worn welsh dresser. Bills was already yellowed with sun and age, a few shades darker than Ginny’s, which was still fighting against Molly’s sticking charm, trying desperately to curl back into the scroll it had been delivered in. It was neither the first- and so far never the final- time that Ginny had come last in a line of her brothers.

“Finally completed the set” Moly set, clasping her hands in front of her heart and smiling proudly.

Ginny knew that her mother’s family, the Prewetts, had a history of squibs. She’d heard a story once from Charlie, who had supposedly heard it from a drunk Prewett uncle at one of the many Prewett weddings, about a hag that had cursed the family over a stolen piece of jewellery. Ginny knew her mother was intensely proud that all seven of her children were magical.

Ginny had heard another story, this time first hand from a drunk Weasley auntie, that the reason her mum had had so many children was to fill the gap left by her dead brothers, her dead mother, her dead father. Ginny had met lots of her mother’s cousins, second cousins, removed cousins. Great aunts and even great grandparents, but by the time she was born every member of her mother’s immediate family had been buried in the ground. Ginny herself was named after her grandmother, Ginevra Prewett, who had been killed in the early days of the war. Her first name was her grandmothers, her middle name was her mothers, her last name was her fathers. Ginny didn’t have any names left for her own.

The evening of her birthday was celebrated quietly. The Weasley’s always celebrated birthday’s in the same way; mismatched tables lined up in the yard, a magically extended gingham table cloth, mountains of food and a cake- specialised to each child. Never two the same, as if Molly had made herself a promise. All of the Weasley children had birthdays that fell in warmer months, apart from the two eldest who’s birthdays where only two weeks apart in the last two months of the year. On Bill and Charlie’s birthdays the whole family would eat outside, equipped with Molly-made hats and scarves, sheltered under a canopy of warming spells.

But Ginny and Percy shared the birthday month of August. This meant that their birthdays were usually accompanied by water fights and bare chests. Ginny loved this. Percy would sit in front of his cake, usually in the shape of something academically related, and pout before he reluctantly joined in. On his birthday, the twins always seemed to sign an unspoken truce, and the three would gang up as one team and bombard the others with water balloons. It was the only time during the year that Ginny saw Percy smile freely, without any of his usual reserve.

Luna Lovegood, who lived only a fifteen-minute walk away from the burrow in an odd tower-like house, always came to Ginny’s birthday dinners. Luna would always make Ginny the oddest presents, which she loved anyway regardless of how many radishes had been glued to it. Luna was Ginny’s best friend and they had been friends since they were babies, even if she knew that all of her brother’s thought she was too weird and called her ‘Loony’ instead of Luna.

The only birthday dinner Luna hadn’t come to had been her ninth, which had only been a few days after Luna’s mum had died. Ginny didn’t have a birthday dinner that week at all, but just sat with Luna in her sun-yellow circular bedroom as she cried.

When she saw Luna at the garden gate, her yellow hair whipping around gently in the summer breeze, her heart swelled with excitement. For the rest of that sunshine-bathed evening Ginny never thought of Harry Potter at all.

Her cake was in the shape of a butterfly. Her and Luna both had a vanilla antenna each.

* * *

On the day that Harry Potter finally arrived at the Burrow- on the 23rd of august, the day after Percy’s birthday- it rained. It had not rained all summer and Ginny was certain that this was an omen. This visit was going to be the death of her.

Ginny Weasley had decided she was in love with Harry Potter the first time she’d heard the Story. Harry Potter had saved the wizarding world at only 18 months. Harry had defeated you-know-who and had been given a lightning scar for his troubles. Ginny had asked her mother what Harry Potter looked like she had been told that no one knew because he wasn’t ever in the public eye, but she had told Ginny what his parents looked like, who Molly had met at a myriad of wizarding social events when she had been a young woman with only a few children, instead of a quidditch team of them. When Ginny thought of Harry potter she had thought of a boy with caramel-brown skin and red hair just like hers.

The first time Ginny actually saw Harry Potter, it was only a glimpse through steam and shifting bodies on the Hogwarts train platform. She’d only realised that the boy had been Harry Potter when George had pointed him out to her under his breathe while mum lectured Ron about sandwiches or something. Ginny had craned her neck to see him again, but he’d vanished. A few months later Ron sent their mother a picture of his friends and him in front of the lake, which she had leaned up on the kitchen window sill behind a mug. It was a picture of four people, standing outside looking decidedly windswept. There, between Ron and a girl with dark skin and a mass of curly black hair, had been Harry Potter.

He wasn’t like she’d imagined. His skin was a dark tan, and his hair was black and unkempt, waves and curls and straight pieces of hair sticking up in every direction. In the photo he kept flinging an arm around Ron and then shoving a hand back through his hair to keep it from being blown about by the wind. When he did that you could see his scar, golden-red against his forehead. His glasses were round and crooked and unflattering. He was the shortest person in the photograph. He was grinning blindly, and near the end of the captured loop he would laugh at something the pointy blonde boy at the end of the row said and throw his head back. She watched the picture over and over when she did the washing up and had it almost memorised. Arm flung around Ron, hair pushed back, raucous laugh. Then again and again on repeat.

It was his eyes, though, that Ginny couldn’t look away from. Bright emerald green. The colour of the brilliant green toads she’d catch at the stream with Luna. Green like Christmas and the glass bottle pepper-up potion would come in and the wool her mum always used for her dads Christmas jumper. Harry Potter green was the best green in the world. It made Ginny think of new worlds and open spaces.

The first time Harry Potter saw her, he tripped over air and would have fallen on his face if Ron hadn’t caught the back of his jacket.

“Ginny” He said, eyes wide.

Harry Potter knew her name!

“Hello” She said, voice timid with her nerves.

Harry was staring at her like he was seeing a ghost. Her joy started to fade slightly into concern. Ron was giving him a confused sideways glance. “Mate. You look like someone just kneed you in the b-“

“Yes. Thank you, Ronald” Her mum said, bustling into the room with a washing up basket full of clothes. She dropped it lightly and then turned around to smile at Harry, who was still stopped just inside the kitchen door. “Well. Let’s have a good look at you then, Harry dear”

Harry was grinning at their mum with unbridled joy. “Hello Mrs Weasley”

“Oh, call me Molly” Her mum said, coming forward to envelope the scrawny boy in a hug. Ginny could tell that her mother was already making plans to adopt him as her eighth child.

Harry hugged Molly back fiercely, like he was greeting his own mother. Molly looked faintly surprised, but patted him gently on the back of the head nonetheless. “Are Remus and Sirius feeding you well? You seem skinny”

“He’s always skinny” Ron said, shooting Ginny an exasperated and commiserating eye roll. Ginny giggled quietly. He came to stand by her, and she passed him a bread roll from the bowl on the counter. They both settled in to wait for their mother to stop fussing, even though they both knew it could take hours.

Harry spent the whole time grinning madly, looking like it was the only place he wanted to be in the whole world. That was the first time Ginny thought there might be something weird about Harry Potter.

He still had pretty eyes, though.

* * *

The weather improved over the next few days of Harry’s stay. The house was constantly bustling with activity normally, but with Harry there it seemed to double as everyone found new and improved ways to entertain him or things to show him. Ginny got the feeling that Harry would have been happy to watch paint dry with them.

Fred and George seemed to think Harry was brilliant, and Harry let them chat constantly about ideas they had for inventions and cool secret parts of the castle. Ginny had caught him staring oddly at Fred on numerus occasions, however, and she was beginning to consider if maybe she was barking up the wrong tree.

Harry seemed equally happy to sit with her and talk about anything and everything, however. Instead of intensifying her crush, however, it cooled it slightly. Not because Harry had done anything wrong, but because it reminded her that Harry was still just a twelve-year-old boy, like her brother, even if he did seem older than that sometimes. He joked and talked and could get huffy sometimes, just like she could. And he loved quidditch almost as much as she did. It was hard to idolise someone when you’d spent three hours dissecting a Magpies v. Harpy game down to tiny details such as what socks Gwenogs was wearing and whether they were aero-dynamic. She started to think of him as just Harry, not Harry Potter-The-Saviour-of-The-Wizarding-World and her future husband.

“Will you try out for the team, this year?” She asked him over a morning cup of tea. Both Harry and she were early risers, whereas Ron could sleep a whole day away if no one woke him up. In the morning over a pot of tea and some of her mums’ scones was when they usually had their quidditch talks.

“Nah” Harry said, slathering a scone with a sickening amount of jam and cream. His hair was cresting towards the ceiling like a wave. She giggled slightly because it made him look like a mad scientist or an 80’s muggle rocker.

“What? Why? You’re a great flyer” She said, frowning. They’d played a lot of three-a-side quidditch in the back garden, roping in Percy or Luna to play. Usually Harry’s team won, though this was possibly because Luna was an awful seeker. She oftentimes got distracted by cool clouds.

“I don’t know” Harry said, shrugging “I guess I want to focus on other things”

“Like what?” Ginny, who couldn’t think of anything she cared about more than quidditch, almost yelled.

Harry laughed softy at her shock and shifted awkwardly “Like… school? and some other stuff. Private stuff”

“Oh” Ginny said, feeling shut out. “Okay then”

There was an awkward minute after that while they both bit into their scones and avoided eye contact. Then Ginny decided to et it go and move the conversation onto greener pastures.

“So, Glynnis Griffiths or Roderick Plumpton? Who’s the better seeker?”

Harry almost threw his scone down in passion, before going excitedly into a rant about how Plumpton was the greatest seeker of all time (“three and a half seconds, Gin! He caught the snitch in three and a half seconds”) and how even Griffiths couldn’t hold a candle to him.

She definitely liked having Harry around, she decided happily.

At around 9 everyone else began to make their way downstairs as they were going to Diagon Alley for the day. Even Ron slinked into the room, sleep ruffled and scowling at the back of Percy’s head. Ginny could guess what had gone down there.

“Cheer up, mate” Harry said, smearing jam on Ron’s nose. Ron batted uselessly at his hand “We’re seeing Hermione, today”

Ron perked up slightly “And Draco said that if he could get a way from his mum, he’d meet us at Fortescue’s at three”

Harry’s face did an odd thing; half a smile and half a grimace. “Yep. Cool. Hope he can make it” Ginny couldn’t tell if he meant it or not.

“Can I come, too?” She said.

Ron shrugged “It’s just ice cream. ‘sides, Draco and Hermione will probably spend the whole time talking about books so be warned”

Harry smiled at her kindly “Course you can come, Gin. Won’t you want to stay with Luna, though?”

“Luna could come too” Ginny said, blushing slightly still because Harry had been nice to her.

“Whatever” Ron said, burying his face in clotted cream.

Diagon Alley was as packed and swarming as it had been her whole life. Posters proclaimed colourfully about new inventions, special deals and sales. Hawkers stood outside packed shops waving parchment flyers and shouting happily that they could “Buy one jar of powdered frog, get a gnats head free!”. She could see even from the entrance to the high-street that Flourish and Blotts was overflowing. There was a long skating line going all the way to Quality Quidditch Supplies.

“What’s that about” George said, as their mother rummaged busily through her seemingly endless handbag.

“Not a clue” Fred said. Then he grinned devilishly “Let’s go check it out and see if we can make it fun”

“Boys” Mum scolded, popping her head finally out of her bag. She was brandishing a book now. On the cover was a grinning blonde man with a sickeningly smug smile. “Gilderoy Lockhart is doing a book signing”

Her mum’s cheeks were suspiciously flushed. George caught Ginny’s eyes and smirked. She stifled a giggle behind her hand. Mum had a small bookshelf full of Gilderoy Lockhart books. She and George had once opened one to find that their mum had circled Gilderoy’s name in little hearts on the title page. Ginny didn’t really get why her mum loved him so much. Every time she saw the man smile she got the overwhelming desire to punch him.

“Ahhh” Luna said knowingly and Ginny was already grinning in anticipation “Daddy says that Gilderoy Lockhart is actually a spy for the ministry. Apparently, he’s just a whole swarm of Busybody Bats in robes with a wig on top”

Ginny laughed loudly and Luna winked at her. Everyone else stared at the blonde girl with bewildered amusement. All except Harry, who was also grinning and looking at Luna fondly like he was used to all the weird thing she said. It made Ginny’s stomach squirm slightly. She pushed it away as probably her just being jealous that Harry was looking at Luna instead of her.

“What on earth are Busybody Bats?” Percy said, looking choked.

“They’re a strain of fruit bat specially bred by the Russian Wizarding Government who listen in on conversations and then report back to their leaders. They used them extensively during the Wizarding Cold war. Everyone knows that” Luna said absentmindedly, her focus on a fluffy white cat that was rolling about in front of the Owl Emporium.

“Yeah Perce, _duh_” Fred said, looking like all his Christmases at come at once.

Dad, who had taken that Wednesday off to come with them, stared at Luna with intense fascination. Mum looked at Luna like she wasn’t sure if Luna herself was actually a swarm of bats in a dress, before pushing forward with her day. “Right. We best go to Gringotts first, then” 

They all agreed and walked down the long, cobbled street until they reached the bank. Before they could enter, however, a shrill voice rang out.

“Harry! Ronald!” A cloud of bushy black hair whipped by Ginny and engulfed Harry. It was the girl from the picture. Hermione, she thought. Ron was grinning so brightly at the girl that Ginny thought it might crack his face wide open.

“Hermione!” He cried, and they hugged each other like they hadn’t seen each other in ten years instead of, at a stretch, two months. Fred and George made kissy faces at each other and Ginny mimed vomiting.

Two adults appeared then, having walked towards them at a far more sedate pace. The woman had her hair in multiple small delicate braids, which she in turn had tied neatly behind her head. The man was tall and balding. They both wore spectacles and had a kind, though slightly baffled, expression.

“You must be Hermione’s parents” Mum said, holding out her hand and shaking Hermione’s mum’s hand vigorously. “I’m Molly Weasley, Ron’s mum”

**“But you’re _muggles_!”** Her dad said delightedly **“We must have a drink! What’s that you’ve got there? Oh, you’re changing muggle money. Molly, look!” **He pointed ecstatically at the pieces of paper that Hermione’s dad held in his hands.

Hermione giggled. All of the Weasley children did some variation of a groaning embarrassed blush. Molly went pink about the ears. “This is my Husband Arthur” She said, in the voice of all embarrassed spouses everywhere.

“I’m Patrick. This is my wife Jean” Said the overwhelmed man. Patrick shook his fist lightly “And yes, we were going to try and change this lot over”

Jean smiled kindly at Harry and Ron “Hello, boys. Harry dear, how are your godfathers? Remind Sirius that he needs to return my muffin pan, would you?”

Ginny zoned out then, sitting with Luna on the wide steps before Gringotts while everyone else filed into the bank to go about their business.

Luna didn’t like to go into Gringotts because she got motion sick, so they people watched instead. They made up ridiculous stories for the people passing by and anytime a person would enter the bank they would make wild guesses about what they were going to spend the money on.

“Pixie dust” Luna would guess of the more serious patrons, before they would both erupt into giggles.

“And lingerie” Ginny would add.

“Frilly pink lingerie” Luna would agree, solemnly. Then they’d be falling about laughing again.

“What house do you think you’ll be in?” Luna asked suddenly, after a slight lull in the conversation. Ginny looked at her in surprise. Luna didn’t tend to follow normal small talk patterns, or any pattern of conversation at all, and would instead drift around topics and bounce from thought to thought. If Ginny wanted to glean any pertinent information, she was forced to decipher it like a riddle.

When Ginny looked at the blonde girl sitting next to her, she could see the genuine apprehension in Luna’s face. “Gryffindor” Ginny said, with absolute certainty. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Luna was quiet, her head drifting up to watch some clouds slip by in lazy tendrils. “If I’m not in Gryffindor, too, will you still be friends with me?”

“What?” Ginny exclaimed, shocked. It was true that Ginny couldn’t picture Luna in Gryffindor, couldn’t really picture ineffable, indescribable _Luna_ boxed into any of the houses, but the idea that they would ever stop being friends was ludicrous. “Of course, I’ll still be your friend. Why wouldn’t I be your friend?”

“No one’s ever wanted to be my friend except you” Luna said, voice not changing from its usual bland honesty. “No one likes me except you and daddy”

“That’s not true” Ginny said weakly but thought of her brothers calling her Loony behind her back.

“It’s okay” Luna said simply “I don’t need anyone else”

Ginny smiled at her, sad but real. She reached over and gripped Luna’s hand in hers “I’ll always be your friend, Luna”

They didn’t stop holding hands even when the others traipsed out of the bank, or while they walked down the street, or in every shop they stopped in to get second hand school supplies, or even when they entered the crowded bookshop. Ginny didn’t do it purposely, but the warm weight of Luna’s hand in hers was oddly comforting.

Ginny clutched her new pewter cauldron slightly closer to her chest. She’d never been worried by crowds, but it seemed almost as if there was five people to an inch inside the bookshop. Luna made a funny face had her and Ginny giggled, relaxing slightly. Mum took them to wait in the line to meet Gilderoy and have him sign their books.

They’d split up the group after the bank trip, agreeing to meet back up here after mum had taken Luna and Ginny around to get all their things. She could see Harry, Ron and Hermione making their way across the shop towards them now, books in hand.

**“Oh, there you are good”** mum said. She was patting her hair nervously **“we’ll be able to see him in a minute….”**

Lockhart finally made his way out and dazzled the crowd with his ridiculously white teeth. Ginny scrunched up her nose, but she heard her mum give an almost imperceptible squeak and Hermione turned slightly pink. Harry rolled his eyes and nudged her

“This is exactly what I said you were like last time” Ginny heard him mutter teasingly.

“Oh, shut up” Hermione hissed, scowling.

Ginny frowned at the odd interaction, but was distracted by a short, balding man with a smoking camera shoving past her and Luna, pulling apart their joined hands. Ginny scowled at him and yelled ‘hey!’ but he ignored her.

**“Out of the way, there,”** he snapped at Ron, trying to get a better shot of the golden man **“This is for the daily prophet”**

“Who cares” Harry snapped “The prophet is rubbish, anyway”

The man looked at Harry with indignancy, but was interrupted in responding by a shout of **“It _can’t _be Harry Potter?”**

“Oh, shit” Harry muttered under his breathe, so quiet that only Ginny and Hermione, who were stood closest to him, heard. Ginny giggled but Hermione scowled and elbowed him lightly.

Lockhart seized Harry’s arm, attempting to drag him forward. Harry, however, resisted intensely. #

“Come forward for a picture, my boy” Lockhart said jovially, undaunted by Harry’s reluctance.

“Sorry” Harry said, yanking his arm from Lockhart’s grip “I don’t have permission from my legal guardian’s”

“Oh legal shmegal” Lockhart boomed, smiling winningly for the bemused audience “Don’t you want to be photographed with me? Together, you and I would be worth the front page”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not really bothered about being on the front page, thanks anyway”

Lockhart looked a little caught off-guard, as if he couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to be front page news. Then his blinding smile was back “Shy, isn’t he?” He said, addressing the crowd as if he was in a play “When young, shy, Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts—”

Ginny zoned out, shifting her head to look around the shop. There was a second landing where she knew they kept all the fiction books and even some muggle books too. Leaning over the gallery balcony was a boy with white blonde hair, smiling down at Harry with amused and exasperated softness. It took a moment for Ginny to place him before it finally came to her- The fourth person in Ron’s photograph. The boy who made Harry laugh. What had Ron said his other friend was called? Drake?

“Here, Gin, you have these” Harry said, suddenly, and she felt a tipping weight in her cauldron. Harry was next to her again, Lockhart finally back at his signing table. Harry had tipped Lockhart’s entire collected works into her cauldron. She frowned “Lockhart gave me these free, but I’ll just buy my own. I don’t want anything from him anyway”

Ginny gave him a grateful smile and saw out of the corner of her eye that her mum looked slightly relieved by this turn of events too. One less set to buy. Ginny pointed up to the second floor, directing Harry’s eyes there.

“Isn’t that your friend?”

Harry glanced up, catching the blonde boys’ eyes, who smirked at him. Harry chuckled “Yeah, weirdly, it is”

The boy made his way down the stairs to join them **“Bet you loved that, Potter”** He said, commiserating sympathetically.

Harry just rolled his eyes and clapped the boy on the shoulder. Ron and Hermione gave him enthusiastic hugs hello. She gathered from their greetings that the boy was actually called Draco.

Draco glanced at her, and gave her a friendly if awkward smile “You must be Weasley’s sister? Sorry for that sad turn of events”

“Hey!” Ron said, even while laughing. Ginny grinned back at the boy.

“Every day is a struggle” She replied solemnly, and Draco laughed “I’m Ginny”

“Ron” Her dads voice called, and she realised that her parents and other siblings had already left the shop “It’s mad in here. Come outside”

Her dads’ eyes landed on Draco, crinkling slightly before going to greet him.

“Well, well, well- Arthur Weasley” A cool voice interrupted. Ginny watched all the blood drain from Draco’s face.

The man who’d talked was pale, with long blonde hair, a cruel expression and an ostentatious cane. He looked so much like Draco- and yet in demeanour was so different- that it was easy to guess who he was.

“Lucius” Her dad greeted, voice equally as chilly.

“Father—“ Draco cut in, trying to diffuse the tension.

“What are you doing hanging around this riff-raff, Draco? Were they bothering you?” Lucius said, his hand going to clutch Draco’s shoulder tightly.

Draco blushed fiercely but stayed silent. Ginny watched Lucius’ eyes land on Hermione, and his lip curled. Then he snapped back to her father with predator like intensity.

He sneered “I hope they’re paying you well for all those raids at the ministry, Weasley” He grabbed a book from Ginny’s cauldron before she could stop him, holding up a battered school book. Ginny flushed “Obviously not. What’s the point—”

Harry cut across him, sharply “I think you should give that back to her, Mr Malfoy”

Malfoy looked at Harry calculating “My my, Potter. How protective of your charity cases you seem. It’s unbecoming” he thrust the book back into Ginny’s cauldron “Here, girl- take your book- it’s the best your father will ever be able to give you”

Dad flushed furiously, but before any more could be said Lucius spun from the room, his white hair whipping about like a blade. Draco blushed again, mouthed sorry at them apologetically, then reluctantly followed his father.

“That man is a disgrace” Arthur spat at his retreating figure. Ginny reached out to catch Luna’s hand in hers again, seeking comfort. Luna squeezed it gently and smiled dreamily at her.

“Yeah. Poor Draco” Ron said, sighing. Arthur gave him a calculating look.

“It’s nice, in a way, that you two are friends” He said, though he sounded doubtful “Let’s hope he’s nothing like his father”

Ginny glanced at Harry to see what he thought but found that he didn’t seem to be paying attention to the conversation at all. He was staring at Ginny’s cauldron of books intensely, brow furrowed in thought.

Ginny shifted it awkwardly in her arms, and Harry’s gaze broke. He blinked, then looked up at her and gave her an abashed smile.

“Come on” Arthur said “Let’s go find your mother”

* * *

That night she proceeded with her evening as she usually did and had a shower around eight pm. She always baggsied the first shower because her hair took the longest to dry, and her mum’s drying charm always made her hair go frizzy.

When she came out of the bathroom in fresh pyjamas and a towel-turban, she headed one floor up to her room. She and Percy had rooms next to each other on this floor, with Charlie’s old room opposite them. Her mother still kept Charlie’s room set up for the irregular times he would come back from Romania to stay for a few days at a time. Ginny sometimes sat in her brothers’ room when she missed him or when she wanted to be alone. It was covered in pictures of dragons, and of snapshots of Charlie and his best friend Tonks with her ever changing hair. It constantly smelled slightly of smoke and the smell always had the instant effect of calming her down.

She passed Charlie’s door now and walked to hers. She frowned slightly when she saw that the door- with its _‘no boys allowed, or I will curse you!!’_ sign and her name in red letters- was open slightly even though she knew she always closed it fully because she didn’t want her brothers to snoop.

She paused just outside the door to see if she could hear anything. If Ron was in her room _again_ she really _was_ going to try and curse him, even if she didn’t know any really good curses yet.

“Just grab it” She heard a muffled voice hiss. Ginny frowned. That was a girl’s voice.

“I don’t know where it is!” A voice that was definitely Harry’s hissed back, sounding annoyed. If that was Harry, then the other voice must be Hermione. The other girl had come back from Diagon Alley to spend a night with them, and she guessed that Hermione must be sharing her room.

So, okay. That made sense why they were in her room. What didn’t make sense was what in Merlin’s name they were talking about.

“Oh, Harry” Hermione groaned “You are terrible at this”

“Well there isn’t a guide book exactly, is there?” Harry said, volume rising in frustration. “I just know that it was in the transfiguration book, last time. Then he put it in the cauldron”

“Wait. You mean that cauldron” Hermione said, sounding exasperated “That one, right there, sticking out from under Ginny’s bed _right in front of us” _

There was silence, then the sound of something being dragged along the carpet.

“You’re right ‘Mione” Harry said eventually “I am _so_ bad at this”

Hermione laughed deeply, and Ginny couldn’t take it anymore. If they were taking her things, she was going to be so annoyed. She pushed the door open forcefully, causing it to bang against the wall.

“What are you doing?” She demanded, hands on hips. If she was acting just a little bit too much like her mother- well. The apple didn’t fall too far from the very intimidating tree.

Harry and Hermione looked at her as if they’d just been caught mutilating a dead body, instead of standing over her school cauldron. Hermione had a hand behind her back and Ginny frowned at it intently.

“Nothing” Harry said quickly. “Hermione thought she might have left her book with your stuff”

Hermione looked at Harry, looking pleasantly surprised “Yeah that makes sense” She said thoughtfully, then blushed and looked at Ginny “I mean. That was what we were doing”

Ginny scowled at them both, stomping over to her cauldron and staring down at her cauldron assessing.

To her surprise, nothing looked out of order.

She looked at them both, eyes narrowed suspiciously. They’d definitely been doing something even if she couldn’t tell what.

The two shared a panicked glance, then moved quickly around her and headed, walking backwards, towards the door.

“Anyway. Sorry Ginny!” Harry called, smiling at her slightly desperately.

“Mm-hm” Hermione said, nodding frantically and tripping slightly over her own feet.

“Hey, wait—” Ginny called, but the door was already being closed sharply behind them. Ginny stared at the back of the door, where her pink fluffy dressing gown and yellow water-proof coat were hung.

Unbeknownst to both Harry and Hermione- who it must be stated,_ yes, _are absolutely terrible at this- a fire had just been lit inside Ginny Weasley. A fire that couldn’t be doused unless with one thing;

Finding out what in Morgana’s name was going on.

* * *

Ginny’s first month at Hogwarts- where of course she was sorted into Gryffindor- was eventful in all the common ways. She found herself lost more often than she found her way to her intended destination; she caught flack from teachers that held grudges against her siblings (in Fred and George’s case that read; all of them) and hopeful praise from those that wanted her to be just as talented as Bill, or as passionate as Charlie, or as helpfully sincere as Percy; she ate the marvellous food and yet still found it lacking compared to her mums’; she danced the awkward first-weeks-together dance with her roommates and then whenever she could she fled to Ravenclaw tower to talk to Luna.

Luna had been thrilled to be sorted into Ravenclaw. She told Ginny that a lot of people were like her there and loved things that other people thought were weird. She still got Ron to ask Draco to look out for her best friend though, because she was still aware that even smart people could be massive idiots.

She still thought often about Hermione and Harry’s odd behaviour. In fact, a few more occasions had fanned the flames of her curiosity.

The first piece of evidence that she gathered was a muggle notebook. It had obviously fallen down the back of the sofa and Ginny found it when she couldn’t find her favourite quill and pulled the sofa cushions out to find it. She’d spared a moment to wonder how well the house elves were actually cleaning the tower, before flipping it open to read. It was full of odd lists such as _‘weird things Harry did this week (3/02/1991)’_ and facts about werewolves and magical artefacts. She had to go on a reconnaissance mission to find out (she stole one of Ron’s old letters out of his trunk) but she confirmed the writing was Hermione’s. Whatever Harry was up to, Hermione had initially not been involved.

Most of Hermione’s lists, however, didn’t actually let Ginny glean anything. They were written in odd codes and shorthand’s that obviously meant something to Hermione but were gibberish to Ginny. Plus, some of it was just plainly baffling.

The entry dated March 10th simply read _“Found him being weird in the bathroom again”_ with 12 exclamation points afterwards. Suffice to say Ginny’s crush on Harry was definitely on the decline.

The second piece of evidence happened near the end of September, when Ginny’s curiosity had almost been drowned in the excitement of her first year at Hogwarts. Ginny had been sneaking her way down to the kitchens (Information she had squeezed out of the twins in exchange for not telling mum about their Potions grades (dreadful because they never went to lessons)) for a late evening snack. She tickled the pear and cracked the portrait hole open, then paused when she heard human voices. She didn’t really want to have to gorge on jammy toast in front of Slytherin’s, so she squinted through the crack to see who it was.

Hermione and Harry were sitting at one of the long tables, the one that would correspond to Ravenclaw in the Great hall, and Harry had his head on the table. Hermione was patting him on the head, though from where Ginny stood it didn’t actually look that comforting.

She couldn’t hear what Hermione was saying, only heard the odd word here and there when the bustling of the house elves ebbed or when Hermione seemed to get particularly passionate. She heard _“locket”_ and _“Dumbledore”_ and _“dangerous”._ Then, when Harry finally lifted his head to respond to Hermione with a scowl, she heard his shout.

“Well I’m sor_ry,_ Hermione, that I didn’t come fully prepared to school with corrosive magical substances!”

Hermione hissed something back at Harry, but she couldn’t catch it. They continued their whispered conversation for a while, only stopping when a house elf came over to give them some biscuits. Hermione thanked him profusely and then turned back to Harry frowning.

The last thing Ginny heard was _“slavery”_ before she closed the portrait hole with a soft click and backed away. She had a lot to think about.

Ginny wrote down what she had heard, then drew lines coming off things and added her thoughts. By the end of this she had a web of confusion and suspicion. She frowned down at the messy page, then put it with her other pieces of evidence.

She would need to do further intensive investigation.

* * *

“Come on” Ginny said, tugging Luna’s hand. Luna had gotten distracted by something out on the grounds and Ginny hadn’t noticed she was walking alone until she reached the end of the corridor and looked back. It was pretty embarrassing. She’d continued talking to herself that whole time. 

Colin had stopped with Luna, too. He was holding his camera up to take a picture of Luna. “Colin! Why are you taking a picture of _Luna?_ She’s not a part of the investigation”

Colin looked at Ginny, unperturbed and still grinning “It’s good lighting here”

“Luna” Ginny said, exasperatedly when Luna remained still despite her tugging “What are you looking at?”

Luna had her hands pressed to the glass of the window. Ginny could just hear all the things her mother would say about smudges. Her nose was so close that it too almost pressed against the glass pane. Luna’s expression was thoughtful. “Look” She said, and tugged Ginny closer too.

Ginny was forced to peer out of the window, and she could hear Colin craning his neck and jumping behind her, trying to see too. The second-floor window faced the east side of the lake where the shore was rocky and dotted about with bigger stones and spindly trees. Ginny’s eyes skimmed the scene, frustrated.

“Luna there isn’t—”

Then she saw it. Red sparks shot up from inside a cluster of trees and bushes at the far side of the shore. Then smoke plumed out towards the sky. Suddenly, two figures ran out of the copse, hands over their mouths and faces smudged with dirt.

It was Harry and Hermione. Hermione’s hair was even bigger than it usually was, it flew out form her head like a mad scientist. Harry’s hair was sticking straight up in the air, and his glasses where black with smoke.

“Colin!” Ginny hissed. Backing out of the way quickly and patting him excitedly on the shoulder “Get a picture! Quick”

Colin rushed forward and clicked rapidly. Luna giggled next to Ginny, who was bouncing on her toes with excitement.

“Look, Luna! Didn’t I say they were up to something?”

Luna patted Ginny condescendingly on her shoulder “Yeh, Gin. You’re a first-class detective”

Colin turned around, smiling “They’ve headed back to the castle. But I got a picture first”

Ginny clapped happily. She walked towards the window and looked out. It was true that Hermione and Harry were gone, but she could still see tendrils of smoke rising from the copse of trees.

“We have to go down and look” Ginny said, almost obscene in her excitement.

Luna and Colin exchanged an obviously exasperated look. They agreed anyway, but all they found in the trees were exploded pinecones and a smoking log. Ginny was disappointed but she made Colin take pictures anyway.

* * *

It was true that Lockhart was an abysmal teacher, but Ginny was surprised still when the flyer went up in the common room.

It read:

_All years and houses welcome! Defence study group (so that we actually pass our exams!) _

_Please contact Harry Potter or Hermione Granger if you are interested in helping out._

_First meeting next Wednesday! Head to the Seventh-floor corridor with the trolls tapestry. _

Below it was a sign-up sheet sprawled with names. She could see all of her brothers had signed up, as well as a good quantity of the upper years.

Ginny frowned, then wandered over to the closest sofa. Dean Thomas and Rupert from her year were playing a game of chess. She stood in front of them and coughed pointedly. They looked up at her in surprise.

“Hey. You going to this Defence group thingy?” Ginny said, slightly less polite then she meant to be.

“Yeah” Dean said, smiling at her brightly “Harry said it should be a good time. And help us with our grades and stuff”

“So, what? Harry’s just going to teach us all defence? He’s only a second year” Ginny pointed out.

“Well, no” Dean laughed “He and Hermione have asked some upper years to teach.” He frowned thoughtfully “Though to be honest Harry is freakily smart at Defence”

“He did defeat You-know-who” Rupert pointed out, shyly.

Ginny huffed “Whatever” She turned around and went back to stare at the notice bored.

She couldn’t quite seem to figure out how this fit into whatever it was Hermione and Harry were up to. She signed her name up, anyway, and Colin’s too for good measure. She made a note to get Luna to do it too.

Besides being a good place to keep an eye on Harry, it might actually be fun. That was as long as it wasn’t a part of some dastardly plot.

The first meeting of the Defence Association, as Harry had called it with a wry smile, went entirely smoothly. So smoothly that it added absolutely nothing to her investigation except some insight into her brother’s strange friendship group.

It had turned out that there was a room on the seventh floor that was perfect for a meeting like this. It was suspiciously perfect, actually. There were study tables clustered in one corner, cushions and dummies for spell practice, and big blackboard that took over one wall. Harry and Hermione stood in front of this blackboard at first, with everyone else sat on the floor.

There was about 40 people from across the school, from all years and houses like the flyer said. A majority were Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, but there was a substantial quadrant of both Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. The Slytherins and other houses shot each other dirty looks at the beginning but seemed to strike a truce as the meeting went on.

Harry began by outlining what the group was for “We change Defence teachers so much that we’re almost guaranteed an inconsistent education” He joked, and everyone chuckled.

“Yeah. Why did Vance have to leave, anyway?” A fourth year Hufflepuff moaned.

Harry shrugged “I heard she got a job at some prestigious university” A murmur of disgruntlement went through the crowd “Anyway with this group we’ll hopefully be able to pool our knowledge and resources and keep on track. Older students can help the younger students, classmates that understand the material can help those who don’t”

Hermione nodded and cut in “Yes. We’ve structured it as half a study group, half a lesson. We have a few people who’ve volunteered to do demonstrations for the first half hour, then for the hour after that it can be practice and study groups”

“Sound good?” Harry said. The twins whooped loudly and everyone else made murmurs of agreement “Cool. Today Oliver and Percy have agreed to show us the stunning charm”

Everyone clapped lightly and the two boys stepped forward. They spent the next half hour demonstrating the stunning charm and explaining the theory behind it. It was pretty funny to watch the two fifth years bicker with each other, especially because she knew the two were actually good friends.

When they were done, everyone split up into targeted study groups. She, Colin and Luna followed Harry and the rest to the lower school corner.

“So, Potter” Malfoy joked “Going to teach us how to defeat the dark lord?”

“Nah” Harry said, rolling his eyes “That’s third year stuff that is”

Draco grinned at Harry. Ginny had noticed that Draco hardly ever took his eyes of Harry. She would sometimes spot him watching Harry at dinner or staring at him across the hall when he was forced to sit at Ravenclaw. He had that same look in his eyes now; it was greed. Or perhaps more rightly, it was wanting. Ginny filed that little piece of information away in case she needed it later.

“Stop it, you two” Hermione scolded, and Ginny watched Ron make a silly face behind her back which set of Draco grinning. Hermione whipped around and glared at him and he blushed at being caught “Today” She said pointedly “I thought we’d go over Petrificus Totalus. Then we can go over any homework troubles anyone has”

Harry nodded, then dived in to an explanation and demonstration of the spell. He was a good teacher.

Ginny concluded, reluctantly, that there probably wasn’t anything malicious about Harry wanting to do well in his classes.

That didn’t mean she was going to just let it go.

* * *

_Dear Sirius and Remus,_

_Hope the bathroom restoration isn’t being too much of a pain. Also, I think I’ve decided on blue walls for my room. Gryffindor spirit is good and all, but I think maybe an entirely red and gold room would be overkill. Give my love to Kreacher. (Yes, Sirius. I mean it)_   
_How was November, Moony? Remember to rest a lot and eat chocolate. Sirius make him eat chocolate. Planning on coming home for Christmas. Would it be okay if Hermione came and stayed? Her parents are going skiing and she says she can’t abide sports. She was very adamant. The defence club is going well so far. We had a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff who almost came to blows, but Ron’s a pro at conflict resolution so we figured it out. Draco’s sworn he’s going to get better grades then me in Defence because it annoys him that it’s the only class he and Hermione aren’t top of. He’s such a swot. I wonder if he’d be able to stay for Christmas? His mum probably wouldn’t like it, but who’d want to spend Christmas with Lucius Malfoy?_   
_ How’s the trial prep going? It’s so stupid it’s taking this long. Owl me as soon as you get updates!_   
_ We went to Nearly-Headless-Nick’s death day party on Halloween. Ron says he’s going to riot if he doesn’t get to go to the feast next year, though. It was fun. I still thought about mum and dad all day. Were you guys okay?_   
_ I miss you! Love,_   
_Harry_   
_p.s Hermione, Draco and Ron say hi! I have to go because Ron’s little sister has taken to stalking me and right now she looks like she thinks I’m plotting a murder._   
_p.p.s I promise I won’t plot any murders, Remus._   
_p.p.p.s (Well I promise I won’t plot any without Hermione’s help)_

* * *

Ron had come to her mid-way through November and told her to stop following Harry around because it was creepy.

“Anyway” Ron said, plopping down next to her on the plump crimson sofa and stealing some Bertie Botts from her packet “Between you and me, I think its probably a lost cause”

“What do you mean?” Ginny said, yanking the bag away from her brother and bushing fiercely.

“Well, have you seen the way he stares at Ced-“ Ron began, but Ginny cut him off.

“I’m not following him because I have a crush on him” She yelled, indignantly. 

Ron gave her a sideways look of disbelief “What other reason would you be following him for? Are you, like, planning to steal his life force in a dark ritual?”

“No” She huffed, thumping him on the arm. He let out an indignant ‘ow’. “He’s up to something”

Ron stared at her, mouth agape “Well…yeah. He’s Harry. He’s constantly plotting something”

“And doesn’t it bother you?” Ginny exclaimed, annoyed at her brothers’ blasé attitude “Him and Hermione have this…secret. Doesn’t it make you jealous”

Ron flushed a red that matched his hair “No” He said, voice croaky “I’m not _jealous_. If they want to tell me something, they will. Anyway. I don’t tell them everything, either”

“Oh yeah” Ginny taunted “What’s your big secret then, Ronniekins?”

Ron stared at her for a long moment, brows scrunched. Then he scoffed, grabbed Ginny’s Bertie Botts and headed up the stairs to his dormitory.

Over his shoulder he yelled “Stop stalking my best friend!”

Ginny flushed as everyone in the common room looked at her oddly at that. She covered her eyes and groaned. But just because her brother was wilfully blind, didn’t mean she was.

* * *

The Christmas holidays passed both pleasantly and uneventfully. Ginny and Luna spent the whole two weeks in a perpetual sleepover, switching back and forth between their houses. They watched Molly bake, then stole hot cookies and cakes from the baking trays when she was done. They invented new worlds in Luna’s bedroom; games where Luna was her idol, Newt Scamander, and Ginny would pretend to be any number of magical beasts. They’d lie on Ginny’s bedroom carpet and talk meanderingly about their imagined futures and giggle over secretly whispered rude jokes. On Christmas eve, when their parents had firmly told them no sleepover was allowed, they exchanged gifts and then obnoxiously and loudly said goodbye; later that night Ginny snuck over to Luna’s house, where Luna was waiting in her garden, and they star gazed and told ghost stories until well into the early morning on Christmas day. Ginny spent all of Christmas day trying not to fall asleep into her turkey and immensely grateful that her mum hadn’t caught her, but it was still worth it.

On the train ride back to Hogwarts, Luna and Ginny sat with Ron and his friends. Colin had stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays because he said he wanted to get photos of everything while there wasn’t anyone ruining his ‘shots’.

“How was your Christmas, Gin?” Harry said, smiling at her kindly. Despite the whole ‘stalking’ fiasco Harry had remained staunchly earnest when talking to her.

“Fine” She said, begrudgingly “Hung out with Luna. How was yours?” She said, looking pointedly at Harry and Hermione.

Ron had stayed over at Harry’s house a couple times over the holidays, always returning with some madcap story of Harry’s godfathers to tell Fred and George. He’d refused, however, to ‘scope out’ Harry’s bedroom like Ginny had asked. Idiot.

“Oh, brilliant” Hermione said, smiling widely “Draco managed to stay as well so it was even better”

Draco looked pleased “Well, yes. It was good. Harry’s godfathers are absolutely insane, of course”

Harry laughed good naturedly “Sirius is _your_ relative, mate”

“Begrudgingly” Draco said drily. “If I walked in on them snogging one more time—”

Harry and Hermione both burst in to giggles, while Ron made a face. Ginny couldn’t help smiling a little too.

“Oh, come on” Hermione said “It’s cute! They were apart for ten years”

“Yeah, well. Draco’s right. I wish they’d stop being _together again_ in front of me” Harry said, nose scrunched.

“Nothing’s worse than seeing your folks snogging” Ron said sagely, and Ginny shuddered in agreement.

Harry smiled incredibly wide “At least I get to live with them. It’s absolutely brilliant”

There was a comfortable moment where they all smiled at Harry, because none of them except Luna could imagine the pain of losing a parent, thankful that he was happy.

“I have no idea why they keep those severed heads up on the wall, though” Draco said, cutting through the tender moment.

Harry groaned loudly, putting his head in his hands “I think Remus allows it because the cats seem to like them. Sirius just thinks it’ll annoy Kreacher”

Hermione shuddered “And instead I swear I’ve found him worshipping in front of them a few times”

“You’re the one calling for his liberation” Draco shot across.

Hermione huffed “Yes, well. However odd Kreacher can be, that still won’t make me condone institutionalised slavery”

Ginny and Luna exchanged a look, obviously having missed something here, and then broke off into their own conversation when the odd quartet began an impassioned debate about—_something_. Ginny couldn’t keep up.

* * *

Ginny felt the consequences of not taking the winter break to sleep in their first week back. On that Thursday Ginny found herself nodding off while trying to copy her Transfiguration notes into a neater semblance of order. The world blinked in and out, flickering between the red-pink abyss of the inside of her eyelids and the yellowed page of her scrawled notes, the gaps between prying her eyelids apart growing longer and longer. The next thing she knew, the angle of the world had changed, and she was waking up to an almost pitch-black common room. The only light was in the dying embers of the fire. Ginny was lying on her side on the over-stuffed sofa. The room was empty.

She sat up groggily and cast a tempus charm. Her brothers had taught her that one because they teased she was never on time to anything. Her mother had agreed that it made sense; she’d apparently been born 3 weeks past her due date. The charm told her it was 20 minutes past midnight.

She rubbed her face in annoyance, still half asleep. The fire finally died down fully and she was just about to get up and head to her actual bed when the portrait hole began to creak open. Ginny peered over the high back of the sofa.

Hermione and Harry- _of course_\- were climbing through the portrait hole, whispering furiously at each other. She could still hear them, though, because there was no other sound in the room.

“Are you sure that was the right thing to do, Harry?”

“I assure you Hermione- if we don’t do something about him then he could cause a lot more pain than he’s worth”

“Yes. But remember; You don’t know how things will go this time. Anyway, what on earth do you know about politics?”

“More than I’d like to” Harry muttered with obvious distaste.

“This might not actually do anything, you know. Everyone might just ignore you” Hermione hissed after Harry as he headed up the stairs to the boys dormitory.

Harry paused on only the second step up and said “Well if they ignore me, they ignore me. But if they don’t? Hermione I might make things so much better”

Harry headed up the stairs, so only Ginny was present to hear Hermione mutter to herself “Or so much worse”

* * *

The next morning the front-page article of the Daily Prophet (which she saw only because Colin never missed an opportunity to gawk at wizarding photographs) read like this:

** _Boy-who-lived-to-speak takes a stance! _ **

_Harry Potter, twelve years old and fiery in his convictions, sat before me last night ready to tell his tale! Or so this intrepid journalist thought. Harry Potter is as famous now as he was at eighteen months old for one reason; mystery. Our saviour disappeared from the spotlight as instantly as he entered it and the wizarding world was left reeling. When he arranged this meeting with me, I felt certain I knew what it would be; a tell-all of his tragic, harrowing life up until now. _

_Instead I met last night with the-boy-wonder-who-lived and a bossy school friend of his, who refused to give her name. “Rita” The boy said, smiling at me as if we were old friends “Can I call you Rita?” _

_And what is a witch supposed to do, I ask? Well Mister Potter went on to tell me an interesting tale about his godfather- the equally compelling and harrowing Mr. Sirius Black- who Harry now resides with full time. _

_“The Ministry’s handling of the case this far is absolutely atrocious” Harry told me, tears threatening to fall from his eyes “He spent 10 years in prison for something he didn’t do and a year on he’s not even been properly exonerated. My parent’s real killer is sitting comfy in ministry holding cells” _

_Who’d have thought it? A twelve-year-old so passionate about ministry politics, as I live and breathe. I asked Mister Potter who he blamed for this obstruction of justice. _

_“Fudge” Harry said plainly. The bossy girl behind him gave a pronounced wince at that. Trouble in young-lovers paradise maybe? “I don’t have any faith in Minister Fudge” _

_Well there you go, readers. If the saviour of the wizarding world doesn’t have faith in our bowler-hatted leader, why should we? I would keep this in mind as you head for the polls in the general election in May. _

_Go to pg. 4 to read Mister Potter get a bit more personal. _

Ginny stared at the paper in shock, and then peered down the table to where Harry was sat with his three ever present shadows. Draco was brandishing a paper in Harry’s face wildly, looking frantic. Hermione had her head on the table, her hair forming a cloud which threatened to encroach on the jam pot. Her brother just looked like he’d completely lost the plot.

Ginny could empathise. She really could.

* * *

Ginny finally got her first crack in the case in February. Valentines day, to be precise.

The day before had been Luna’s birthday, so she’d gotten Luna angel cake and lemonade from the house elves in the kitchen and they’d had a sleepover sequestered in Luna’s Ravenclaw four-poster bed. Ginny had gotten Luna the newest Weird Sister album, because Luna liked to go through all of their songs with a fine-toothed comb and find clues that pointed to Donoghan Tremlett, the bass player, being secretly dead. She also passed on her mother’s present; a knitted pair of radish earrings and a box of home-made toffee.

Ginny was on her way back from the Great hall on Valentines day- where Ginny and Luna had munched happily on heart shaped French toast and made fun of Valentines day in its entirety- when she spotted Harry Potter entering the second-floor girls’ bathroom. This was weird twofold. 1. No one used the second-floor girls’ bathroom. 2. Harry potter was not a girl.

Now, Ginny was not one to police other peoples gender expression, but she could smell ‘suspicious behaviour’ a mile off. Harry Potter was being Suspicious. Ginny speed walked her way after him.

The door to the bathroom was just making its slow swing almost all the way closed when Ginny slammed her hand against it and pushed it back open wide. For a second, she thought that the bathroom was deserted, or that Harry was in one of the cubicles, but then she saw the gaping entry way that where the sink usually stood.

Ginny had been in this bathroom a few times, mainly when she had charms and desperately needed the bathroom, so she knew that the sink didn’t usually have a hole in it like that. She rushed forward, and peered down into—

A secret passage way. A merlin-blessed _actual_ secret passage way. She couldn’t see where it came out, and that gave her pause. But she also couldn’t see Harry Potter and that meant that Harry Potter was down that secret passageway.

Two more things should be noted here, and never ever forgotten again. Ginny Weasley is a Gryffindor- this means it is in her nature to do brave things, even when they’re stupidly brave things. Secondly, Ginny Weasley is half Prewett and half Weasley. That meant she had a long double-ancestry of stupid bravery informing all of her decisions.

Before it could even think about closing on her, Ginny Weasley made her way into the secret passage way. And fell. Well, she slid to be more accurate. All the way down a long stone tunnel, like an oversized pipe. She could remember now, vaguely, that anytime she’d tried to use this tap it hadn’t worked. At least that was one minor mystery solved.

When she finally reached the bottom, she fell to the floor with an unpleasant crunch. She had landed on bones. Hundreds and hundreds of animal bones- small like rats or mice. She winced and scrambled her way up and off them.

She looked around. She was in a damp stone room. The room suddenly got a shade darker, and Ginny realised that the entrance in Myrtle’s bathroom must have closed behind her, blocking the light. She pulled her wand from her sleeve and muttered ‘Lumos’. She only hesitated a moment before she began to walk forward, following the echoing sound of what must be Harry’s footsteps. She shivered deeply against the damp chill of the place.

Where was she? Some lower level dungeon? A basement? Whatever it was, she concluded it was probably Slytherin in origin. There was snake paraphernalia all over the slimy tunnel.

Ginny sped up, her feet slapping wetly against the floor. She wanted to catch up to Harry as soon as possible so that she could leave this place immediately. She followed the winding pipe, which bent this way and that seemingly on a whim. Finally, she turned a bend and caught sight of Harry, standing in front of a snake-decorated door. He was hissing at it.

“Harry” She cried, and he spun around, eyes wide.

“No” he choked “Not again”

Ginny ignored this odd response to stare at him in bafflement. He had a sleep mask resting on his forehead. It had tacky fake eyes printed on it.

“What’s not again?” She asked, “What in Morgana’s favourite horse is this place?”

Harry stared at her, blinking exaggeratedly. “Ginny?” He said slowly “Are you….. alright?”

“Of course I’m alright” Ginny snapped “But I’m wondering what in Circe is up with _you_, Harry”

Harry was still watching her cautiously. “Do you know why you’re down here?”

“Because I saw you acting weird and followed you down” Ginny half-yelled, exasperated. This was really not the interrogation she’d hoped for.

“Why the hell did you do that for?” Harry cried, now starting to look unhinged in frustration.

“Because you are so hiding something!” Ginny cried, just this side of petulant “You were sneaking around my room and I know you took something—” Harry winced “and you and Hermione are always sneaking about and coming back at odd times and whispering at each other! And I found Hermione’s notebook”

She brandished this piece of evidence at him as her magnum opus. Harry just blinked at her in confusion. “What notebook?”

“The one with all the weird lists, you know” Ginny said, losing steam slightly “_‘Reason’s Harry’s probably not an eldritch being’_ etcetera”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up “Hermione made a list abut me being an eldritch being” He laughed “Well. I can’t say I’m entirely surprised”

“Are you an eldritch being, then?” Ginny demanded, elbows on hips. She knew she was once again channelling pure Molly Weasley.

“No!” Harry chuckled slightly “I’m just…. doing something”

“In a secret underground chamber?” 

“Yeah. It’s a very secret something” Harry said bashfully. Ginny just kept staring at him, unimpressed. He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

“You and Hermione are going to be the death of me, as per usual” He muttered under his breathe. He pulled something out of his pocket, then pointed his wand at it and murmured a spell. Suddenly two fat dead chickens grew in Harry’s hand. “I keep them small in my pocket, so I don’t get weird questions” He said awkwardly.

“Oh my” Ginny squeaked “You are an eldritch being! You come down here to feast on raw flesh”

Harry threw his head back and laughed. This just made Ginny annoyed at him, eldritch being or not. “No, Gin. God, no. There’s a basilisk down here. I bring it food twice a week, so it doesn’t go on a murderous rampage upstairs”

“There’s a basilisk under the school” Ginny squeaked, then felt ashamed for sounding so _girly_ about it.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve been calling it Beverly. It says it’s a girl anyway, so”

_Beverly??_ Ginny thought, but out loud she said, “It speaks to you?”

Harry winced again, like he hadn’t meant to let that slip “I mean, yes, it’s just” He muttered a curse word under his breath, but Ginny spent so much time around Fred and George that it hardly phased her. What did phase her was when Harry started hissing. Not just normal hissing. Structured hissing with syntax and everything.

“I can talk to snakes” Harry said, coughing lightly as if to clear his throat.

“Oh” Ginny said, stupidly.

“Why are you so bothered by what I do, anyway, Gin?” Harry said, genuinely baffled.

Ginny blushed. Wasn’t that just the million-galleon question? At first it had been because it was easy to transfigure her crush on Harry into an obsession. Then it had continued simply because she was stubborn, or because it was sort of fun to go on stake outs with Colin and Luna. But why had she kept it up so long?

“I don’t know” Ginny croaked “I just wanted to know what you were doing”

Harry looked at her with pity. Like he thought she was just Ron’s stupid kid sister, upset over being left out. Maybe she was.

He pulled something else out from his pocket with his spare hand, the tossed it to her. It was another eye mask, this one with a line of ‘Z’s across it. “Here. I always bring a spare. But this on and don’t take it off no matter what happens”

She nodded frantically and pulled the mask on over her head She felt her hair fluff up ridiculously, but she didn’t care. Harry Potter was going to let her be a part of the adventure.

Harry did his hissing thing again, then there was the sound of stone scraping against stone. Harry grabbed her hand to guide her “Come on” He said, helping her step through the circular door way.

Holding Harry’s hand was different to Luna’s. His palms were rough and unpleasantly warm, she could feel hers already beginning to sweat in his embrace. She wished Luna was here with her. She knew Luna would give her left foot to meet a real-life basilisk.

“I’m going to call the basilisk, now. I’ll ask her to close her eyes but don’t take the mask off just in case alright?” Harry said, from beside her. His voice echoed and Ginn wondered how big the place they were in was.

“What is this place?” She asked again.

“It’s called the Chamber of Secrets” Harry answered “Salazar Slytherin built it and but the basilisk in here. I’m not really sure what he meant to do with it. Kill a few muggleborns, I suppose.”

Ginny shivered. Then she heard it. A rasping, cavernous slither. The sound of giant scales scrapping against wet stone pipes. She clutched Harry’s hand tighter.

“Don’t worry” Harry said comfortingly “She’s actually quite nice. I don’t think she wants to hurt anyone. She’s just been alone for so long”

That made Ginny pause. She wondered what it would do to her to be left alone in the dark for hundreds of years. It would probably cause her to turn a bit murder-y, too.

The slithering stopped, and Ginny could feel a presence close to her. Not a heat, but almost like an absence of cold in the air. Like the basilisk was taking up all of the space around them. She shivered involuntarily.

Harry began to hiss again, and when he paused the silence was taken up by an answering hiss. It was higher pitched and thicker than Harry’s hiss, but he seemed to understand it well. The two held a brief conversation- or else she assumed that was what it was- and then there was two soft thumps against the wet floor.

“What was that?” Ginny asked, frantically.

“Just the chickens” Harry soothed, and Ginny relaxed.

“Is she happy?”

“Sure” Harry answered ambivalently “She mainly just likes to inform me of the quality of the rats. It’s not like we can talk about the weather”

Ginny giggled, then paused in thought. “What will you do with her?”

Harry was silent, too. Over the silenced was superimposed the crunch of chicken bones. “I don’t know” Harry said softly, sounding sad “I wish I could set her free, but…”

He didn’t need to finish the answer. It was clear.

After a few moments, Harry hissed something out and the snake responded. “What did you say?” Ginny asked, curiously.

“She’s just taking care of some stuff for me” Harry said, as if this wasn’t a shady thing to say “I was just making sure it was okay”

Ginny would have pressed more, but the slithering started up again. It was almost deafening this close, and the snake hissed something. Ginny gathered it was a grateful goodbye.

“Harry” Ginny said, something occurring to her “How on earth to we get back up that tunnel”

“Ah” Harry said, amusement in his voice “This is the part where I tell you why I always where trainers to do this”

The exit for the chamber came out at almost the very bottom of the cliff Hogwarts rested upon. The trek back up to the castle took two hours, and the path was faded with age. Ginny panted and puffed and complained the whole way back.

“Stop following me, then” Harry said jovially.

_Fat chance,_ Ginny thought, _I’m finally starting to get some answers._

* * *

For Ron’s birthday in March, which happened to fall on a Wednesday, Harry and Hermione postponed that weeks DA meeting. Instead the Weasley’s, Luna, Draco, Hermione, Harry, Seamus, Neville and Dean all threw him a surprise film-night. Hermione had been thrilled to learn that muggle equipment worked in the Room of Requirement (which Harry had reluctantly explained the mechanisms of for the party).

They watched something called Star Wars, and then laughed as Fred and George re-enacted all of their favourite scenes.

* * *

In May all anybody would talk about was politics.

“Why does everyone care so much?” Ginny huffed, plopping herself down in between the roots of a gnarled tree.

Luna had brought them with her to see the thestrals. Ginny hadn’t entirely believed in their existence until a couple of visits in. Seeing the ground beef quickly disappear in bite-sized increments had been pretty compelling evidence. 

Colin was alternating between photographing their surroundings and pointing the camera in the general direction of where the thestrals apparently were. He wanted to know whether they appeared on camera.

“It’s pretty important stuff” Colin said traitorously.

“Yeah” Ginny huffed “But not to us. We can’t vote, we’re in school. Why should it be the only thing everyone in the entire school can talk about?”

The general election would be in two days, on Thursday. She’d received many a pompous lecture from Percy on the candidates and magical political climate. She’d also helped Draco make a “Vote for Bones” Poster which he stuck in the entrance hall. It got taken down after only an hour by McGonagall however because apparently the school was supposed to be a politically neutral environment.

“It’s nice for people to take an interest in the world” Luna said dreamily, half in and half out of the world as she so often was.

“It’s all Amelia Bones this, Fudge that blah blah blah. Who cares?” Ginny threw her hands into the air. The grass she’d been angrily ripping up fell over her like slightly damp confetti.

“I do hope Madame Bones is elected” Colin said, snapping a picture of a grey squirrel. Ginny was surrounded by traitors. She let out a tremendous groan.

“Everyone knows that Fudge will just get re-elected. He’s been minster for two terms, and no one seems to hate him that much”

“Harry Potter does” Colin said, voice a little dreamy like it always was when he talked about Harry. Ginny had warned him of the boy multiple times to no avail.

Ginny rolled her eyes skywards “Harry won’t change much”

“Oh, I don’t know” Luna said “People like him an awful lot”

“If Fudge doesn’t get re-elected on Thursday, I promise I’ll eat my hat” Ginny said heatedly, before realising that she’d accidentally stumbled into talking about politics. She changed the subject.

On Friday the post arrival was met with much anticipation. The headline read_ “Amelia Bones becomes Minister for Magic”_ with two side-by-side pictures; one of Amelia Bones, victorious and the other a disgruntled Fudge.

Colin passed her her hat with a teasing grin. 

* * *

The day Ginny achieved what she’d been working for since that day in her bedroom last summer was an ordinary Friday. Until, quite abruptly, it wasn’t.

It was June, it was sunny, and Ginny was crying by the lake. The cause of her tears was one she was accustomed to; her brothers made her feel small. Just because she’s used to it doesn’t make it hurt less.

She’d honestly thought that things had gotten better after she was at Hogwarts too. Maybe they had finally opened their eyes and seen her for who she was not who they had decided she was. Fred and George trusted her by letting her sit in on their planning; Ron would talk to her about his actually problems; Percy had stopped talking to her like she was still two years old. But of course, they would still just see her as a little girl. Useless Ginny. Just go back into the kitchen and help mum out, why don’t you?

It had all been so stupid. A group of Gryffindor’s including her brothers had decided to put together a friendly game of quidditch. Ginny had asked to play. They’d laughed. And not only had they laughed, but George had told her that they didn’t want her on their team because she was a ‘little girl’ (Angelina had punched him but he still hadn’t taken it back). Ron had nodded and said she was too weak. Percy had stuck his nose out of his book and said that she was too young, anyway, to play with the others.

Ginny had run off crying. That’s what she hates the most. It makes her feel weak when they can get to her so easily. When the people you’ve looked up to your whole life treat you like your less than you are, it hurts. She’d eventually wandered, between bouts of tears which she had furiously rubbed away, down to the edge of the lake. She’d been skimming stones and brooding for at least half an hour at this point.

Ginny sighs, and angrily smashes the stone she’s holding back into the ground. It makes a satisfying thump against the dry mud. For a second, she imagines throwing rocks at her brothers, but shakes that away as slightly too psychotic for comfort. Instead she just gets up, brushes down her school skirt which she hadn’t even had the time to change out of yet, and begins to make her way back to the castle.

She’s just coming up to the weeping willow when she spots them. They appear out of mid air next to the tree and Harry stuffs something silky into his pocket. An invisibility cloak, she thinks in surprise. Hermione, who’s tied her mane of hair back into two neat buns and who’s wearing an outfit reminiscent of a muggle spy, is laden with a ginormous back pack. Harry picks up something from the ground and throws it at the tree. The tree freezes.

Ginny only pause a split second to rub away the last vestiges of her tears, and then she’s sprinting full throttle towards them. It’s up a hill so she’s out of breath when she yells.

“Guys!” She gulps in a large breath. Stumbling to a stop in front of Harry and Hermione. “Wait”

“Ginny” Hermione said, clear panic spilling across her face. Up close Ginny can see that strapped to the backpack is a bedroll. Merlin, she thinks.

“Ginny we can’t stop, we have to—” Harry protests but she cuts him off.

“Whatever it is, I’m coming with you” Ginny says, sharply. She’s already pulling her hair bag into a ponytail with the bobble on her wrist. If Harry’s involved, she’s sure there’s going to be an obnoxious amount of running.

Harry gets this little grin on his face. This stupid sly grin. The grin that says, _‘you seem cute and silly to me because I think I know more than you’_. She hates that grin. She’s seen it on all of her brothers faces multiple times.

“Harry” Ginny said, slow and clear and deliberate “If you don’t let me come with you, I’ll just follow you anyway. You know I will”

“You don’t even know what we’re doing” Hermione said, chewing at her lip.

“it’s Harry. Something dumb”

“You can’t know that” Harry said, mildly offended.

“Can’t she?” Hermione muttered with the chagrin of a good friend who’s been forced to put up with too much.

“Ginny you can’t come” Harry said, in a voice that brokered no argument. Well. Ginny Weasley could argue with a brick wall and come out victorious.

“I can do anything I want” She says “Plus if you don’t let me come, I’ll tell everyone about that chamber and the snake”

Harry gaped and Hermione threw her hands up into the air “You are the worst secret keeper Harry Potter. How on earth does she know about that stupid chamber?”

Harry spluttered “She followed me!” He looked at Ginny, aghast “You can’t just blackmail me. Gin”

Ginny blushed a little “Well, no I probably shouldn’t. Honestly, I wouldn’t go through with it” she squinted “Probably” Hermione snorted “But she have to let me come. Please”

The please comes out far more desperately than she would have liked, but Harry and Hermione still look at each other with contemplative eyes. Ginny can see the conversation passing silently between them, but she doesn’t have a clue what they’re saying.

“Why do you even want to come so much?” Hermione finally asks, turning to look at her with confused eyes.

“Because I want to know what you’re up to. I’ve wanted to know all year” The other two exchange a weighted look. Ginny hesitates “And because I can help. I’m a better witch than people think”

“No one would ever think you’re a bad witch” Harry says softly, eyes kind. Ginny just shrugs. Harry would never be able to get it.

Hermione looks like maybe she does though, and gives Ginny a half smile “Did you never just think of locking him in a room and interrogating him till he told you?”

Ginny laughed “I guess I’m just not that direct”

“Brightest witch of her age” Harry said, rolling his eyes and patting Hermione on the head “Fine” He said, shrugging “But we’re making you carry the bag”

Ginny couldn’t contain her grin.

* * *

Harry was going to apparate them.

“You’re twelve” Ginny said, voice flat “I’m not letting you apparate me”

“Maybe you should just go back then” Harry said, pointing towards the tunnel entrance which had led them out to the shrieking shack of all places.

“Ginny. He can do it, I promise” Hermione said kindly “I wouldn’t go myself if I didn’t trust him not to leave half of my body behind”

“How did you even learn?” Ginny said, still desperately reluctant.

“He contains multitudes” Hermione said drily, and Harry grinned at her.

“Will you at least tell me where we’re going now?” Ginny demanded, felling her reluctance give way.

“Nope” Harry said, popping the p infuriatingly.

Ginny sighed, then held her hand out loftily as if waiting for a kiss. Harry took it, winked at her—and then all three of them were being squeezed through a tunnel. Ginny was vividly reminded of her mother explaining how babies were made and the muggle video they’d been shown in the year of primary school she attended. Fallopian tube of time and space.

Then she was landing hard on her knees in dew-wet grass and all thoughts of fallopian tubes were dashed from her mind. Ginny gagged once and could hear Hermione either doing the same or actually throwing up a few paces away.

“Are you guys okay?” Harry said, looking down at Ginny. Ginny glared up at him and pulled herself up to her feet. There were grass stains on her knee-socks. Her mum would kill her.

Ginny looked around. They’d landed on a grass verge which parallel a winding country lane. Overgrown hedges bordered it, so tall that Ginny couldn’t see over the top of them to what lay beyond. A few meters away a little wooden sign pointed back along the lane proclaiming ‘Great Hangleton, 5 miles’. The sign in the opposite direction read ‘Little Hangleton, 1 mile’.

Ginny looked at Harry in trepidation “Please tell me we aren’t about to set of on a 5-mile walk”

“It’s your lucky day” Harry teased, letting Hermione gain back her balance by leaning on his shoulder “Little Hangleton it is. Come on”

They walked for a little way with no change to the scenery. Ginny repeatedly bounced up on her toes to try and see over the hedges, while Harry and Hermione walked a meter or so ahead of her, holding a muttered conversation under their breaths. They rounded to the left and a valley opened up below them, a small but sprawling tucked between two hills. Ginny could see a graveyard and a manor house clearly even from where she stood.

“Is that where we’re going?” She said, stopping beside Harry and Hermione who had come to a standstill. Ginny looked at Harry sideways. He was staring, she was almost sure, at the graveyard. He looked sad. She wondered if he knew anyone that was buried there.

“No. Not the village” Harry said, snapping his eyes away and continuing down the sloping path “Not yet”

Eventually they turned off from the main lane and ducked through a gap in the hedge. The path they followed after that was winding and sloped and Ginny found herself almost tripping twice on the uneven ground. She blushed furiously each time, annoyed at herself for being the burden she was sure Harry and Hermione thought she was.

She could see a copse of trees ahead of them, and this was where they eventually came to a stop. In the dark cluster of trees was a dilapidated house.

It was half hidden by the trees, but what they could see of it made her certain that it was uninhabited and had likely been abandoned for a while. The walls- who’s original colour was indiscernible- were blanketed thickly in moss, and the moss itself was almost hidden by a towering wall of nettles, which reached almost to the roof. The roof itself hardly deserved the name. Most of the rafters were visible and clearly close to rotting away. A few sad shingles clung here and there, like a bald man combing a single hair over his head. The front door was broken, as if it had been kicked, and a rusty iron nail stuck out from it- something long ago rotted clinging in shrivelled tendrils to it.

“What is this?” Ginny whispered, wondering why Harry’s big secret had anything to do with this dying house in the middle of nowhere.

“We’re on a mission for Dumbledore. It’s to do with Voldemort” Harry said calmly, and because she was still staring at the house Ginny missed the surprised look Hermione shot him.

“You-know-who is dead” Ginny said, jumping despite herself at Harry’s casual use of the name of a man who had died when she was hardly a few months old.

“We can’t tell you anything else” Harry said, regretfully.

“Why did he send you? He should be sending adults”

“Yeah, well” Harry said, sounding just to the right of bitter “I’m available, I guess”

“It shouldn’t be dangerous” Hermione said, then muttered “Not this part”

“Yeah, about that” Harry said, returning to sheepish “We’re going to do something after this that’s…not adult approved if you catch my drift, Gin. It’s a personal mission.”

“Okay” Ginny said, still mulling over Harry’s earlier words “But what are we doing at this house?”

“Well to start I suppose we should go inside” Harry said, his brown skin looking almost pale. Hermione grabbed his hand and gave him a reassuring nod. She wasn’t smiling, though she didn’t look scared.

They walked across the small copse towards the house. Hermione pushed the door gently with the toe of her bovver boot. It crashed loudly to the floor, completely rotted away from the hinges.

“Well” Hermione said drily “At least we won’t need the lock pick set”

Harry laughed bitterly, and then walked into the house, his steps creaking ominously on the felled door. They followed. Ginny rubbed at her arms which, despite being covered by a school cardigan and it being June, had come out in goose bumps.

Hermione went to the edge of the room, and beckoned Ginny to follow. Ginny’s back was pressed to the inside of the chilled stone walls. Harry pointed a wand at the floor, paused and then looked at them.

“Cover your eyes” He said, and they hardly had the chance to do so before she heard harry yell ‘reducto’ and there was a small explosion as the floor boards tore themselves to shreds.

“Shit” Ginny muttered, and Hermione looked at her sideways slightly scandalised. Ginny couldn’t help but giggle.

Harry was staring down into the hole he’d created, and he beckoned Hermione forward. She went over to him, and Ginny followed. When she looked down into the hole, she saw a half-buried green velvet ring box, musty with age.

“That’s what you came for?” Ginny said, surprised. Hermione was rummaging around in her back pack. Finally, she pulled out a metal box with a heavy hinge and a pair of tongs. “What are those for?”

“They’re iron. Iron protects from cursed objects. It’s old fae magic I think, from before they went extinct” Hermione said.

Ginny could remember being told about fae, who were seen as half fiction and half fact by many wizards and who had supposedly gone extinct long before the time of Merlin. She knew that that was why wizards often still hung iron horseshoes above their doors or wore iron jewellery if they were particularly suspicious.

Her surprise must have shown on her face because Harry gave her a sympathetic look “If it makes you feel better, I literally learned about the existence of fairies like three months ago”

“Fae” Hermione corrected petulantly.

“Well you have only been at Hogwarts for two years. It’s not too surprising” Ginny said.

Harry’s eyes went wide “Right. Yeah. That’s true I suppose”

“Here” Hermione said, passing the iron tongs to Harry and opening the latch of the box “Be careful”

“Oh, no.” Harry said glibly “I was planning on being extra clumsy with this cursed magical artefact before you said that Hermione. Thanks”

Hermione rolled her eyes “Pick up the damn ring, Potter”

Harry did so, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. He carefully moved the innocuous ring box from it’s hiding place into the box Hermione was holding. Then Hermione latched the box quickly, as if she thought the ring might somehow try and escape and cast a colloportus spell on it.

“It’s already spelled to only open for its owner” Harry pointed out.

“One can never be to careful” Hermione said loftily, placing the box gingerly into her back pack.

Harry stood up quickly grabbing Ginny’s hand and pulling her up with them. “Come on then, lets get the hell away from this ugly house”

* * *

They didn’t end up going too far from the ugly house, but instead simply finished the walk into the village and stopping in the church graveyard. The village was sleepy, and the lanes were mostly deserted. An old man they passed gave Ginny’s attire and muddy appearance a dubious look.

Harry guided them to a particular grave. It was large and imposing, obviously built for a wealthy person. The name upon it read “Thomas Riddle Sr”. The date of death was given of 1943.

Ginny frowned at that. The date meant that Harry couldn’t have known him. Why were they here?

“Who is this guy?”

“Someone who’s only important tertiarily, and for nefarious deeds” Harry quipped.

Hermione swung the backpack of her shoulders and it thumped heavily on the ground “We want to make sure that those nefarious deeds can’t happen”

“So, what?” Ginny said, apprehensive. She became even more apprehensive when Hermione unceremoniously pulled out a shovel from her bag.

She brandished it cheerily “So we’re going grave robbing”

“Hermione” Harry said, waving his hands at Hermione “Put it down. We have to cast the spells first”

“Oh, all right. Bu you’re not the only one who gets to be dramatic around here Harry” Hermione said, putting the shovel back regretfully and pulling out her wand.

The two began to cast charms, Hermione out loud and Harry silently. She raised her eyebrows at that, not only could Harry successfully apparate but he could apparently cast non-verbally too.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asked, curious. She supposed she should be more worried about the grave-robbing comment, but she knew despite their suspicious natures that Harry and Hermione weren’t bad people. If they were robbing a grave, there was probably a good reason.

“Just casting some charms so no one sees us. Notice-me-not, muffliato, concealment charm…” Harry listed off distractedly, focused on his spell work.

“Oh” Ginny said, then raised her wand and cast Mum-No-Lookious

Hermione looked at her in alarm. “What did you just cast?”

“A spell Fred and George invented” she shrugged “It’s like a muggle repellent charm but instead it makes people suddenly stop being curious when they come to investigate what you’re doing. It makes mum leave Fred and George alone when they’re inventing”

“And they taught you it?” Harry said, surprised.

“No” Ginny said blithely “I snooped in their room and found it written down. Then I tested it out and started using it myself”

“What did you use it for?” Hermione asked, looking impressed.

“Broom practice. Being left alone” Ginny shrugged, and Harry gave her a small smile.

“Thanks, Gin”

She just shrugged “wait” She said “Give me the reason why you’re both acting like this isn’t a weird thing to do. You don’t have to give details, just broadly”

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks “These bones could be used for something much, much worse than us digging them up and vanishing them”

Ginny understood that. It was a common Wizarding practice to have empty graves, or coffins filled with mementos of the person instead of bodies. Human remains could be a powerful tool in many dark rituals.

“Alright” She said, swinging up one of the shovels “But you’re going to have to duplicate another shovel for me because you only have two”

* * *

On the way back from digging up and reburying the coffin of Thomas Riddle Sr (and in between that, looking away while Harry vanished the bones so as not to have nightmares for years) Ginny finally asked Harry and Hermione a question.

She held out her hands to pause them after they’d arrived back at the shrieking shack “Why were you in my bedroom last year? I know you took something, I just don’t know what”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other meaningfully and Ginny once again got the feeling that she was on the outside looking in.

“We did take something” Harry said slowly, and Ginny’s stomach flipped with vindication “But it wasn’t yours” She frowned, and Harry hurried on “Lucius Malfoy slipped a book into your cauldron that day in the bookshop. Hermione noticed, and then we took it and had Dumbledore check it out. It was cursed”

Ginny blinked owlishly “Draco’s dad tried to curse me?”

“He wanted to get back at your dad” Hermione told her sympathetically.

“What would it have done to me?” Ginny whispered.

Harry avoided eye contact, and Hermione was the one who answered “Don’t think about that Ginny. It didn’t happen”

“It could have” She said, top live quivering in a way that made her hate herself just a little bit.

“It didn’t” Harry snapped, his voice harsh “I—we wouldn’t let anything happen to you Gin”

“Because I’m Ron’s little sister” Ginny said, not meaning anything by it but simply stating a fact in her shocked state.

“Because you’re my friend” Harry said, face heated.

Ginny stood in silence for a meant, processing everything that she had been a witness to and everything she had heard that night. One thing still stuck out to her, above any other question she might have.

“Why aren’t Ron and Draco involved in any of this?”

Another look was passed between the two second-years like a tennis serve. It was Hermione who hit back this time “Because the less people who know, the safer it is”

That was all they said on the matter, and those were the only questions they would give straightforward answers to.

* * *

For the rest of the walk back to the castle, and then back to Gryffindor common room, and even when she was lying in her bed in her dormitory that night, Ginny mulled things over in her mind.

She mulled over her entire ‘investigation’, lacklustre and often dead-end as it had often been. Why had she been so unable to let it go? Why had she let her whole first year at Hogwarts become so wrapped up in one occurrence?

By the time she drifted off to sleep she had come up with two answers. The first was an easy one; she had never let anything go in her life. The second was harder.

Maybe she had just wanted something to do. Something that Bill or Charlie, or all her other brothers, had not done first. And she’d wanted to subvert herself. Wanted to prove that she wasn’t just a stupid girl with a crush on Harry Potter. If she uncovered some plot, or even if she just found out a mundane truth for herself, then it felt a little bit like she wasn’t wasting her existence. Or like she was finally living up to her family.

The only other times she felt unburdened like that was when she was with Luna. With Luna, she didn’t have to be anything except there.

The answer was tied into those unknowable truths, the ones you knew and yet didn’t know- learned and yet didn’t face in yourself. As if by never looking in the mirror you might somehow change the reflection.

Ginny Weasley was poor. Ginny Weasley was last. Ginny Weasley was a girl. Any number of reasons, but they all boiled down to this; Ginny Weasley was not enough.

She had clung so hard to the mystery of Harry Potter not out of pure nosiness, but because it gave her something to be besides herself. Truthfully, she had not been successful. She knew she had been firmly locked out of the two-person circle of truth that Harry and Hermione had. Everything that she had seen that night had only spawned more questions, more mysteries.

But she felt, suddenly, that she could let it go. _Because you’re my friend, _Harry had said. She thought back to the summer and how he had always treated her as a person of equal interest to any of her brothers. She thought of Hermione; brave and smart and acerbic in equal turns. She wasn’t less because she was a girl.

In fact, she thought of all the girls she knew. Angelina, Katie and Alicia from the team. Her roommates, Megan and Lucinda. Professor McGonagall and Sprout and Madame Hooch. Luna. Luna, Luna, Luna. They weren’t less because they were girls or women, or more. They were just equal. Just as different and odd and brilliant as all of her brothers were.

Her final thought before she succumbed to slumber was of her mother. Flour-hands, coddling, vanilla-smelling. Always ready with a cuddle or a story or a baked-good. She thought maybe there was no one in the world who was as strong as her mother.

Maybe it was okay that she was a girl. Maybe she could let everything go. Be herself.

But this was another thing that she learned under her thoughts, knowing without knowing that she knew. What she did know was that when she woke up the next morning, her world was brighter and clearer than it had ever been before. As if something that had been possessing her had finally let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm heading off to uni on friday so i'll keep up a steady pace of writing but it could be a slower update just a heads up.  
next up; the lovely Luna, suffering through having to be Harry's confidante


	3. Luna Lovegood and the Parameters of Sanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha ha! remember when i said i'd have this done by christmas? well merry christmas you filthy animals and have chapter 3 i guess lmao.  
uni is a lot more stress then i anticipated and i accidentally joined a kayaking club that took over my life so i guess? life is strange?  
i'm so sorry.  
also i could rant forever about my weird relationship with Luna and how i've never been able to get her character so just fyi my version of her may not be close to fanon interpretation.  
thanks if you still continue this!  
not sure how pleased i am with this chapter and i'm forever sorry for any inconsistencies i miss. i wrote this over such a long time i worry it's too disjointed. hope you enjoy regardless.  
i'm so excited to write the next few chapters (this was defs going to be the hardest one for me) and i have a pretty free january so here's hoping i get more out.  
all my love  
waterloo

_30/06/1993_

** _ SUSPECTED MURDERER PETER PETTIGREW ESCAPES MINISTRY CUSTODY! _ **

_ Rumours have surfaced this morning that Peter Pettigrew, charged over a year ago with the murders of two wizards and twelve muggles, has escaped from ministry holding cells where he was awaiting trial. The case has apparently hit a number of roadblocks on its way to trial and this delay became a key taking point in last months electoral debates.  
An insider tells us “They found the cell empty. It’s believed that the escapee had outside help” Before going on to tell us a rumour that a high up ministry official may have been involved.  
Minister Bones is yet to comment.  
This article continues on pg. 3_

* * *

“Luna” Xenophilius Lovegood called from inside the kitchen “Will you go down to the village and collect my parcel from the post office? It’s my ink and I’ll be running out soon, my love”

Luna blinked her eyes open, squinting against the sun. She’d been dozing in the garden, lying next to her mother’s tree. She sat up slowly, still half in her world of sun and dreams. Her dress snagged lightly on a tree root as she stood up. It had been her mothers, too, and fell almost all the way to the floor on Luna’s smaller frame. Sunset shades and handkerchief-hemmed, pixie-like as all her mother’s clothes had been.

“Yes, daddy” Luna called through the kitchen back door which was swung open to the world. The Lovegood house always maintained an open-door and open-window policy throughout the summer. Luna would wander in and out of the house and gardens barefoot, as if one was simply an extension of the other. In the summer it felt as if the whole of the Devon countryside was one big greenhouse, sun-baked with the same quiet still air. Luna would wander for hours, alone or with Ginny, and then pause in nooks and crannies of the world- tree roots, the shade of crumbled stone walls, with her feet dipped into rocky streams. She’d read or draw or Ginny would tell her her marvellous made up stories.

But her favourite place was always resting beneath her mothers tree. On her own. After her mothers death three years earlier her body had been buried in the garden and a sapling had been planted as a marker. Now a blackthorn tree stood tall, taller than it should have been, as if it had grown by magic. Luna had been allowed to choose the tree type; she’d spent a whole day pouring delicately through her mother’s books on trees until eventually she picked the blackthorn. For witches and for winter-- her mothers birth season and favourite time of year.

“Thank you, poppet,” Her dad called back. She could here the repetitive click-clack of her dad’s magical type-writer. He must be writing a new article.

Luna slipped shoes on (the first time she’d worn any in days, she realised) and headed off down the hill towards Ottery St. Catchpole. She walked along the river. The Otter was slow today and shallow, shrinking away from its banks. It had been an unusually pleasant summer, especially where they were at the bottom of the country.

She reached the Post-office and collected her dads’ package with ease. Then she took a moment to sit on a bench and sketch the village church, with its spire reaching up to pierce the drifting clouds, sure that her father wouldn’t mind.

“Luna dear, is that you?” A warm voice asked. Luna looked up to find Molly Weasley standing above her, arms full of brown paper bags, with a concerned smile on her face.

“Hello Mrs. Weasley” Luna said, squinting to look at her directly. She pushed her long blonde hair out of her face, where it had fallen as she drew.

“Has your father really let you wander about alone?” Molly asked, exasperatedly “Doesn’t he read the Prophet? Well no, I suppose he doesn’t. You should tell Xenophilius that there’s a mass murderer on the loose, hm?”

Luna nodded at Mrs. Weasley in agreement, though she couldn’t honestly say she was worried. She’s heard something about a murderer who’d escaped, she could remember it vaguely now. Harry had been very concerned about it during their last days at school.

“But I made sure it went right this time, Luna” He’d told her forlornly, holding his palm out flat so that Thomas the Thestral could chomp at a chunk of steak. “If this happens again…” He’d started, and then trailed off.

“You can’t control the world, Harry. It’s catching wind in a net” She’d said, running a hand down Sarah the Thestrals flank. 

Harry snorted “Yeah. Well I’m trying to be the best net I can be, Luna”

She’d told him one of Ginny’s best jokes (though she thinks she may have gotten the punchline wrong) and made him a flower crown out of daisies to coax a smile from him.

She didn’t often fully understand what Harry was talking about. He didn’t seem to expect her too, and in return he never laughed at anything she said or gave her odd looks. She’d even heard him telling off Ronald for calling her Loony. Harry always seemed vaguely fuzzy to Luna, as if he was somehow out of place. She didn’t mind too much. Apart from Ginny and Colin, he was her only other friend in the world.

Molly was still frowning “Are you heading back home Luna dear?” 

Luna looked down at her drawing, not yet fully finished, but she was aware that Molly had her no-nonsense voice firmly fixed. “Yes Mrs. Weasley”

Molly nodded sharply “Come on, then. I’ll walk you home safely”

* * *

Pandora Lovegood nee. Selwyn had been a different kind of mother than Molly Weasley. Born into a lesser branch of respectable pureblood family, albeit one that had a foothold in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin. They weren’t dark-- they were smart and stuffy and proud. A family of inventors and high-class proprietors, researchers and experts. Pandora Lovegood fit into that perfectly- except that she didn’t.

She was highly intelligent, a Ravenclaw, a beautiful woman and an inventor from a young age. And odd. Precocious, sure, as any intelligent child ought to be. But too persistent. Insistent. Absolute. She knew what she thought, and she wasn’t going to change that for anybody. She was slightly too loud, too brash and too mouthy to be the perfect pureblood daughter. She embarrassed them at dinner parties and at Selwyn extended family events. She was a child of the sixties who embraced muggle culture- she wore tie-dye and corduroy instead of robes.

At twenty-six she met Xenophilius Lovegood. A pureblood, that was a plus, but he was known to everyone as odd. He wrote pamphlets strange conspiracies and went on exhibitions to find extinct or made up creatures. He’d been fired from the prophet for his outlandish articles.

After only a year, they were married. The sharp inventor and the lunatic failed reporter.

Three years after that, they had Luna. Nine years after that Pandora was dead.

Pandora hadn’t been like Molly Weasley. That’s what Luna remembers. Where Molly Weasley was brilliant in a softer way, Pandora had been all sharp edges. Sincere and unfailingly honest with Luna. Tidy in every place but her lab which sat at the bottom of their rook house. Luna would sit, feet dangling, on whichever work bench Pandora wasn’t working on, padded out in a bubble of protection charms, and ask a million questions. Pandora would answer every single question with the same brutal honesty, regardless of whether it was age appropriate for how ever old Luna was at the time. Pandora Lovegood did not believe in censoring the world for Luna. 

Pandora Lovegood had died in a flash of purple smoke. A spell gone wrong. A spell gone so terribly wrong. Luna had been perfectly safe in her bubble across the room, screaming.

“Mummy” She’d been saying, because a girl in the village had said she couldn’t join in on their skipping game because she was weird “Why don’t people like me?”

“Because—"

And then the world had gone up in purple smoke.

* * *

_Dear Padfoot, _

_It feels redundant writing you when I know for a fact that you’re going to floo _ _Moony everyday and get him to tell you every single thing. Don’t pretend you won’t. _

_ How’s the search going? I’m still not sure if it’s a good idea that Mad-eye is l_ _etting you help out on that. What if you get hurt? Like I said, Moony needn’t have followed me to Hogwarts just because you two don’t think I can take care of myself. Now you’re all alone.  
I was talking to Hermione and we’ve decided there’s no point keeping the DA going this year when we’ve got a competent teacher. But we want to still keep meeting up each week and do something with muggle studies instead. If we can get some of the more amicable purebloods to see what muggles are really like it might help open their minds. Maybe a movie night? Tell me your suggestions Pads.  
Anyway, not much else to report being as it’s only the second day of term. _

_Love,  
Harry_

* * *

Ravenclaw tower wasn’t a place that ever stood still. That was why Luna loved it.

It was the walls that talked in the Bronze tower. From day to day the walls would be covered in flyers, posters, photos. Tacked up pictures of admired people, magical or not, quotes and famous paintings and diagrams. Study tips and anarchist slogans and posters depicting wand movements. All of it crammed between overflowing bookshelves, on any piece of spare wall. At the end of every year everyone would take down what they’d pinned up and for a few scant hours the common room would be as austere and pristine as it had surely been in Rowena’s time. By a few hours into the first day back it would be littered again with the debris of every Ravenclaw’s intellectual pursuits. It was like living in a mind- with all of the thoughts splayed out.

The first thing Luna ever placed on the walls was the patent certificate for the _Anapneo _spell. The first spell her mother ever got patented. Luna had been pleased to notice that no one had ever stuck anything else over it.

On the first day back of her second year she placed it once again on the wall, next to a print of _A Starry Night _and the Nicholas Flammel quote Draco Malfoy had just stuck up.

“Did you do that pretty calligraphy, yourself?” She asked innocently but for some reason Draco just blushed intensely and walked quickly away. He’d always treated her oddly. Ginny had told her, in confidence, that it was because he was jealous that Harry seemed to like her so much. She thought that was sad. Especially because Harry didn’t like her in that way at all and she certainly didn’t.

She read the quote again, lips moving as she smiled lightly_. __If forty million people say a foolish thing it does not become a wise one, but the wise man is foolish to give them the lie._

It was a nice quote. Pretty calligraphy.

* * *

“Luna, I need your help” A disembodied voice declared, and Luna was forced to come out of her present position; upside down lying on the ground, legs thrown over a fallen log.

To be truly honest it wasn’t the voice which made her get up. She had been pretty comfortable after all. It was the wafted scent of pumpkin pasties carried on the wind. This meant one person- Harry- and meant one thing- Harry _wanted_ something from her. Pumpkin pasties was bribery food.

She swung her legs up and over the log, swivelled so she was sitting up and made grabby hands at a dishevelled Harry. He held out the pumpkin pasty, wrapped in a napkin.

When she’d finished eating, Harry spoke. As if Luna was a fairy creature that needed to be presented with gifts so she wouldn’t bite his head off.

“I need your help” He said, dropping down onto the ground next to her and leaning back against the log. Luna had been sitting near Hagrid’s hut, soaking up the last rays of September sun. “Seriously. I have an ethical conundrum”

“What’s your ethical conundrum?” Luna said, wiping crumbs from her chin and licking her lips. Merlin she loved pumpkin pasties.

“Is the ‘greater good’ a real thing? Or is it just a thing people say to excuse horrible actions? Because it sounds like bullshit to me- er, sorry. It sounds like rubbish to me. But I need it-“ Harry stopped, voice gone high with stress “I need to do something”

“If you _need_ to do it then why are you theorising about ethics?” Luna suggested.

Harry snorted. “I need to do something and be able to _live_ with myself afterwards”

Luna nodded. “It’s called Utilitarianism” Luna said, because thankfully for Harry she had actually read a book on muggle ethics. “It’s a Victorian theory suggested by a muggle philosopher called Bentham. It posits that the most ethical thing to do is the thing that brings the most happiness to the greatest number of people”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, obviously mulling over what she’d told him. She grabbed Harry’s hand lightly and started tracing patterns on the back of his hand. Harry didn’t seem to notice.

“Does it hold any water?” Harry asked.

Luna shrugged, watching a murder of crows lift off suddenly from Hagrids’ pumpkin patch. “It has its pros and cons. All ethical theories do really. It’s meant to be helpful”

Harry was quiet for a while, watching the sky. “If you had to do something really bad but you knew that doing it would bring a lot of good in the long run, would you do it?”

“Is there another option? A better one?” Luna said, watching Harry sideways.

“No” He said softly “No, Luna. I don’t think there is”

Luna didn’t say anything for a while, just thinking. “Yes. I’d do it. I’d do it if I needed to”

Harry looked at her, face blank. Then he gave her a small smile, lacking any real joy. “Thanks, Luna” He gave her a sideways hug “I’ll let you go back to your sun-nap now”

Then he was off, walking away from her towards the castle. Luna watched him go.

When he was out of sight Luna swung her legs back around and lay back down. But she didn’t go back to napping. She just stared at the sky and thought.

* * *

** _  
_ **

** _TO-DO LIST (Destroy Voldemort) _ **

  * _<strike>Get diadem</strike> _
  * _<strike>Get locket </strike> _
  * _<strike>Get diary</strike> _
  * _Get cup_
  * _<strike>Get ring </strike> _ <strike></strike>
  * _Stop Nagini being made_ <strike></strike>
  * _Do something about what’s in me_
  * _<strike>Prove Sirius innocent </strike> _ _(sort of)<strike></strike>_
  * _<strike>Lock away Pettigrew.</strike>_ Lock away Pettigrew again.
  * _Do something about Barty crouch?<strike></strike>_
  * _Save everyone I let down_
  * _Make sure Voldermort can’t to the ritual and come back (<strike>break mum’s protection</strike>, <strike>destroy bones</strike>, stop Crouch jr)_
  * _Prepare everyone so that if I fail, they can fight_
  * _Find some way to destroy the horcurxes_
  * _Figure out how to kill Voldermort (find him in Albania?)_
  * _Decide if I want to try and go back._

** _TO-DO LIST (second chance)_ **

  * _make sure Ron and Hermione know I love them _
  * _be a better friend to Luna and Ginny_
  * _….and Neville_
  * _Be a better friend _
  * _hear stories from Sirius and Remus about them and my parents_
  * _tell them I love them _
  * _learn more about my heritage _
  * _learn more about Tonks_
  * _learn more about magic _
  * _be happier_
  * _don’t take it for granted again _

* * *

Luna’s half-way through not doing her Potion’s essay (instead of following Snapes prompt she’s writing him a think-piece on animal cruelty in the potions industry. She’s sure he’ll appreciate it) when she feels the sofa cushions dip beside her.

When she glances up, she sees Draco staring at her warily. She smiles at him widely. Unfortunately, she’s been chewing liberally on her quill for the last ten minutes and so the smile is rather bluer than intended.

He blinks at her slowly, looking for all the world as if he’s talking to a rabid griffin instead of a twelve-year-old girl. “Erm” He starts, and Luna’s noticed that Draco is a person that only ever seems eloquent in situations he feels in control of. Otherwise he’s a stumbling mess. She sort of prefers it. She wishes she had a pair of her spectre-specs so that she could check him for wrackspurts.

“Would you like a jelly-bean?” Luna said, holding her nearly empty paper bag of them out to him. He blinks at them and then a slow grin forms.

“Harry’s got you onto that muggle rubbish too, eh? Knew he’d cause an epidemic one day” He jokes. Sounding much surer of himself.

Luna purses her brow ever so slightly “I think the muggle one’s are much better” She said, picking a cherry-red bean out and biting down on it. The sugar shell breaks satisfyingly between her teeth. “Plus they have only nice flavours”

Draco fumbles again “Er, yes. Not that I- well I mean—“

He broke off, eyes drifting over to look at the wall of collected Ravenclaw paraphernalia. Or perhaps it was propaganda. Or just the impedimenta of a hundred or more lonely intellects trying to share a thought with a non receptive world. Luna didn’t turn to see what he was looking at but just watched his face instead. How every emotion danced across the delicate bones built below translucent skin. Draco always gave off the initial impression of chill—it was why people like Ginny, who was all fire, took immediate dislike to him. He seemed insular and arctic. But it was an illusion—a trick of the light which danced off his sharp angles. Draco wasn’t cold- and he wasn’t fire like Ginny or sunshine like Harry or rainstorms like her mother had been- he was the sky. Ever changing and ever moving. Grey to blue to pink to apocalyptic red. Changing with moods and feelings and winds. Hidden by flimsy clouds. <strike></strike>

“I don’t hate muggles” He said, voice flat and mood clearly overcast “That isn’t what I meant”

“I know” Luna said, confused. “Why would you hate muggles?”

Draco’s eyes snapped to her, bewildered “Because I’m a Malfoy”

Luna stared back at him for a while waiting for him to go on. When she finally realised that was all he was going to say she nodded slowly “Yes. That’s right. I’m a Lovegood”

Draco blushed “No, I mean—I’m expected to hate muggles. Because of my family. And I don’t”

“That’s good. Expected is boring” Luna said, nodding and sticking her quill back between her teeth.

“I’m not a bad person” Draco implored, sounding desperate. Luna wondered who he was trying to convince.

“Well of course not” Luna said simply “If any one was just good or bad, they wouldn’t be real. Purely good or bad people only exist in moralistic stories”

Draco slumped back against the sofa cushions, brow still scrunched together and looking vaguely tortured. “Yeah” He said quietly “I guess you would be right there”

For a while Luna just watched his side profile. He was staring off at a barren piece of Ravenclaw-blue carpet as if it held the answer to the cosmos. She realised, watching him as she was, that she wanted very desperately to draw him. She knew this meant they were friends because Luna only ever wanted to draw people she considered friends.

“Draco” She asked, pulling her quill out of her mouth. The ink splotch was making a valiant effort to conquer new land on her chin “Would you like to be cheered up?”

He tore his gaze away from the carpet and looked at her, puzzled. Then he shrugged “What did you have in mind?”

“Come on” She said, standing up in a switch of her over-sized school skirt. She left all of her work where it was. Ginny had done something last year which meant no one bothered her things any more, though she wouldn’t admit what. She grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him up, leading him across and out of the common room.

She pulled him along the whole way to their destinations, hands swinging languidly in-between them. He seemed excessively uptight compared to her dreamy countenance and it made Luna laugh. She hoped she could inspire in Draco the ability to let go a little more. If he kept so wound-up at all times, he would develop muscle aches. No one ever remembered that emotions lived in the body as well as the mind.

They stopped outside Harry’s DA room. Luna paced back and forth three times while Draco scrunched his nose at her.

“It isn’t Wednesday” Draco points out needlessly. Luna just smiles at him.

The door materialises, and it’s different to the door that appears when they practice for DA. It’s light, sunshine yellow pine. She pushes it gently and it swings wide open.

“Come along Draco” She says, giddy already in anticipation “There are worlds for you to see”

They step into a simple room, made plain in its banality. Softly carpeted, tastefully wallpapered, lightly furnished. There was two stuffed high-back armchairs facing a small spindly table with a record player atop it. Next to the table was a milk-bottle crate filled with records. Just as her mother’s had been.

“What’s that?” Draco asked, looking in alarm at the record player as if he thought it might be a torture device Luna was going to use on him.

“It’s a record player. It’s muggle” She said “It plays music”

Draco came forward then, clearly fascinated “How do the charm it to do that?”

“They don’t charm it. They use technology” Luna said, plopping down on the right-hand chair and leaning forward to flick through the records. All the ones she remembered her mother having. Luna felt comfort swell in her chest like a balloon, pushing out everything else.

Draco sat down in the other chair and stared in trepidation at the turntable. “How do you get it to play music?”

Luna plucked a Ravenclaw-blue record up with her fingers nimbly and shook it lightly at Draco. “This is a record, it has all the actual music on it. When you put the record on the player and then put the needle down, it spins and that makes it play music.”

Draco seemed confused, and she knew he wouldn’t understand until she showed him. She slipped the record out of its cover gently, wary even if she knew they were only replicas of her mother’s collection. She placed the record down, adjusted the needle and then turned the player on. It crackled familiarly for a few moments, then it cleared, and the first guitar chords sounded.

_I am on a lonely road and I am travelling, travelling, travelling, travelling….. _Joni Mitchell sang, and Luna sank into the familiar album.

Draco seemed poised to say something at first but held his tongue. As the first side of the record played out he relaxed too, and closed his eyes, a soft smile swimming about his lips. She watched the sky of his face clear and become just as blue as the album they were listening to. 

Draco didn’t talk until the first side had finished. “This is beautiful” He said, and Luna smiled at him and turned the record over. California began to play. Luna lost her self in memories of her mother. Her mother had said that any time she felt lost she would simply choose a record and listen to it completely with her eyes closed and suddenly she would be exactly who she was he first time she heard it. She said that records were like cameras; they snapped you and you were caught forever exactly as you were the first time the notes flowed through your blood.

_…Sitting in a park in Paris, France reading the news and it sure looks bad,  
They won’t give peace a chance. It was just a dream some of us had….._

She lets the memory wash over and into her. Luna is four years old and her mother is singing Joni Mitchell to her in her laboratory and inventing a spell she says will save the world and everything is okay, and Luna has never known anything but peace.

_“California I’m coming home” _Joni Mitchell sings from the record and in her minds eye Pandora Lovegood is singing it too.

* * *

Draco isn’t a very nice person, Luna thinks. He’s just far enough from sarcastic so as to come up snide. He’ll make biting remarks regardless of whether you be friend or foe and he’ll only ever consider employing kindness when telling the blunt truth if he thinks it will get him somewhere. He isn’t nice. But nice isn’t everything. Nice isn’t always anything at all. Nice is a veneer; a well-practised mirage. The glaze over a misshapen pastry. Nice is all well and FINE, for certain. But Draco isn’t nice. He’s good. Luna thinks Sondheim had it right with that distinction.

(Xenophilius was a big fan of musicals. By the age of seven Luna had seen _Into the Woods_ eight times already.)

The point about Draco not being nice, and Luna knowing that, was that it didn’t matter. Because nice people weren’t the people you became true friends with. Nice was for people you smiled at when passing in corridors. Or for people who you borrowed class notes off of. Or for those awkward acquaintances whose friendliness never blossomed into anything more. True friends weren’t nice to each other. No small lies to cover the cracks every person had. They were true. Scathing remarks and all.

This is how Luna knows that Draco Malfoy is going to be her True Friend. It’s also why she feels comfortable laughing and calling him an idiot when she goes to visit him in the hospital.

“Draco” She said, giggling and sitting primly on the edge of the bed. The blonde boy was scowling at her, but the effect was ruined by his hair which was fluffed up like a duckling and the bed sheet which madam Pomfrey had pulled up to his chin. Draco had been unable to move it due to his injured arm. Luna wasn’t feeling the greatest urge to help him out “How silly can you be?”

“A little sympathy please Lovegood” Draco huffed, colour high on his cheeks.

Harry snorted from where he was camped in the chair by Draco’s bed, not looking up from a miscellaneous copy of Witch Weekly that he’d scrounged to read. “She’s got a point, Malfoy. I can’t believe you did it, _agai- _I can’t believe you did that”

The blush took dominion over Draco’s entire face. It was quite possibly moving from an embarrassed blush to a full-fledged Draco Malfoy patented frustrated flush. After three weeks of friendship Luna had begun to learn these nuances. Harry had quirks like these too- like how he always stumbled over simple sentences or when he said incongruous things before looking panicked and leaving the room in mid-conversation. Luna put Harry’s oddities down to the general anomaly of his entire presence.

And wrackspurts, of course.

“I didn’t think they would be that sensitive” Draco snapped, attempting to give a full body flounce of dismay before wincing and gingerly cradling his arm.

“You did call it a ‘great big beast’” Harry said loftily, sharply flicking a glossy magazine page over.

“Hippogriffs are very sensitive” Luna nodded sagely.

Draco made mocking noises which only served to further prove that he was a ginormous child. “It’s nothing I wouldn’t say to a friend”

“Yeah” Harry said, finally looking up and shooting the blonde boy a look of complete exasperation “_We’re aware_. I just don’t think the magical woodland creature knows that snide remarks are how you impart love”

“Anyway” Luna said, patting Draco’s head as if he were a large house cat “Madame Pomfrey said you’ll only need to be in here over night and then you’ll be right as rain”

Draco went back to aggressive pouting while Luna found herself enchanted by the bright orange leaves falling from an oak tree beside the Hospital wing windows. She wondered if you could somehow preserve freshly fallen leaves and make jewellery and clothes out of them. Muggles probably had a way. She’d figured out that muggles usually had solutions to things that wizards simply ignored, or only theorised about in a magical sense instead of doing anything practical.

When Harry came to the end of his magazine, he closed it wearily and finally gave Draco his full attention. Draco soaked it up greedily while trying to pretend he wasn’t.

“You’ll have to apologise to Hagrid. And Buckbeak” Harry said sternly, but his mouth was twitching up at the sides “And don’t go about making a drama about this”

“I’m not dramatic about anything” Draco exclaimed, dramatically. There was a brief pause as they all digested this obvious lie before Draco spoke again “Alright maybe you have a point”

“The only person more dramatic than you is Harry” Luna said serenely, causing Draco to break out into laughter and Harry to gape indignantly before breaking out into a monologue about how un-dramatic he was.

Mid-way through this tirade Draco suddenly stopped laughing and demanded to know why Hermione and Ron weren’t at his bedside comforting him. Harry muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “avoiding your bullshit” which Luna giggled at and then pretended not to hear.

* * *

A week after Halloween is when the crystallised sugar castle of friendships and joy melts around Luna’s feet dismally. Peter Pettigrew breaks into Hogwarts.

“I told them that they needed to put anti-Animagus charms on the castle” Harry hissed to their cluster of sleeping bags in the corner of the Great hall. They’ve been taking under their breathe because Percy ordered them all to stop talking ten minutes ago. He’s on the other side of the hall now so they’re being treated to Harry’s tirade.

To be fair Luna had been pretty shaken when Flitwick had entered their peaceful common room (peaceful by Ravenclaw standards; meaning at least three heated debates were taking place complete with encyclopaedias to both support points made and slam angrily closed in frustration) and announced that they were all being moved to the Great Hall for the night while the castle was searched. Peter Pettigrew had been spotted outside Gryffindor tower, screaming dementedly at the fat lady and brandishing a silver dagger. When he’d spotted his witnesses he’d apparently vanished into thin air, causing many screams and calls for help.

“He didn’t vanish” Harry hissed scornfully “He just turned into a bloody rat again. What’s the point of trying to keep everyone safe if I—” Harry cut himself off, looking disproportionately frustrated. Luna exchanged a glance with Ginny who was next to her. Hermione lay a comforting hand on Harry’s knee.

Draco was still as ashen as he’d been when Flitwick had held court in the common room. He tentatively placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and whispered “It isn’t your fault”

Harry looked inclined to disagree, but Hermione agreed fiercely with Draco “You can’t know everything Harry” Harry looked at her searchingly, something deeper travelling unsaid between them “You _can’t_” She repeated firmly.

Ginny reached over and gently took Luna’s hand in hers and Luna wondered if it was a deliberate search for comfort or a force of habit. Either way Luna clutched back fiercely.

She wondered, suddenly tired, what it would be like not to grow up in the shadow of a war. In the shadow of those long dead. She watched Harry, who’s bottom lip was scabbed over from chewing it in worry and who looked as if he blamed himself entirely despite Hermione’s assurances. She thought about Harrys parents who Harry must surely think of every day, killed in large part by the man that had come searching for him today. What must that feel like?

Perhaps, she thought, it was like the feeling she got every time she saw sparks fly from a wand or an incantation muttered, and she was reminded starkly of dirty blonde hair and purple smoke.

They were children playing in their parent’s world, blindsided by the shadows they cast on every wall.

Luna gripped Ginny’s hand tightly and from across the hall Percy Weasley let out an indomitable Weasley shush. 

* * *

Harry had started the DA again in September, but with a difference. The whole school had witnessed a miracle; for the first time in recent memory Hogwarts had a competent Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Lupin was entertaining, clever and kind. He seemed unequally qualified for teaching. Plus, to the third years delight he enjoyed to jovially tease Harry. To which Harry responded with embarrassing stories about Professor Lupin and Sirius Black.

So, Harry had called the first meeting of the DA and opened the floor to a discussion about where to go from there. The whole group, from Seventh year to the new firsties, had been reluctant to disband the group which had become many of their favourite part of the week. Luna herself would be upset to see the group go- she was close to Ginny because of their history but the rest of the Gryffindor group (and Draco) had only become her friend through the weekly meetings.

Harry had then suggested the solution; that the group became a study group/society for Hogwarts other failing subject; Muggle studies. Luna wasn’t personally sure of the calibre of the muggle studies pedagogy, due to it being a third year and above elective, but she took many of the older students’ words to heart. Apparently Professor Burbage tried her best, and came from a place of genuine kind heartedness, but often times missed the mark.

“I thought maybe we could start having muggle movie nights or gatherings where we played muggle music?” Harry said, shifting awkwardly in front of the room of fifty or so students. Harry didn’t generally take a leading role at these meetings, though it was widely acknowledged that the club belonged to him. His public speaking could certainly be improved. Mainly because he always seemed as if he would prefer to be anywhere else when he had to talk in front of large crowds.

The room was split between wary apprehension and wary interest. “But muggle stuff doesn’t work around Hogwarts” George pointed out “Though I really want to see more of that Star Wars stuff”

“Well we managed to watch Star Wars” Harry shrugged “So I guess this room has its own rules?”

“I wonder if you can apparate from in here?” Oliver pondered out loud.

Percy whipped around and glared at the twins, who looked shifty “Do _not _try that, boys”

“Fine, m_um_” Fred said rolling his eyes.

“Maybe we could do a book club” Hermione said hopefully. Ron rolled his eyes.

Harry looked doubtful but shrugged “Well I mean yeah, if anyone’s interested in that I could suggest some books”

“Why do we need to learn more about Muggles?” Pansy Parkinson said, not managing to keep the disdain out of her voice. The air in the room turned tense and awkward. Hermione scowled at Parkinson and Ginny shuffled a few metres away from the girl who had been sat on her side.

“Because Muggles honestly do a lot of things better than us” Harry said simply, staring at her calmly without any give. “Ever heard of a wizard movie? And no offence to Celestina Warbeck but nothing on the wireless is exactly fresh or cool”

Luna agreed with this. The wireless never even played anything good. She hadn’t heard David Bowie on there even once.

“He’s got a point” Draco said, which got him a few looks. Luna sort of suspected that he was just agreeing with Harry for the sake of it. He shrugged under everyone’s doubtful looks “What? I want to see the next Star War too. I want to know what happens to Hans Solo”

“Han Solo” Harry corrected “But anyway, yeah thank you Draco”

“All in favour?” A sixth year Ravenclaw muggleborn named Amanda asked the room.

About two-thirds of the room but their hands up, with the other third following reluctantly out of peer pressure.

“Well” Harry said happily “I guess we’re watching Empire Strikes Back next week then”

“Are we still calling it the DA?” Ernie Macmillan asked with confusion.

“I’m sure we’ll be back to normal next year” Ron said drily “This is Hogwarts after all”

“All hail the almighty Defence curse” Fred said.

“May our education never prosper” George finished.

So that was how the movie club started. Luna liked it. She liked the scary ones especially- though on Halloween instead of a scary movie they’d watched a strange movie about singing transvestite aliens in lingerie. This had inspired Fred and George to paste an A1 poster of Snape dressed in a Frank N Furter costume outside the great hall. It had been disturbing but very well drawn, Luna had thought.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy began his hardened campaign against Buckbeak and Hagrid in general in late November. Draco had been particularly annoyed because he couldn’t figure out who had informed his father about the incident. It wasn’t as if Hogwarts had a very strong policy of being transparent with parents.

“He can’t get Hagrid fired, can he?” Hermione worried, flipping fervently through a book on Wizarding Law.

Luna was sitting with Hermione and Draco in the Ravenclaw common room. Luna had been playing chess (and losing) against Draco when the letter had arrived from his father. The Gryffindor’s had promptly been summoned. According to Hermione Ron was unavailable due to having a detention. Apparently he had managed to annoy Snape in lesson. Harry had come with Hermione but had vanished mid research to gather food and as he put it ‘resources’.

“It’s my father” Draco said dismally “He has half the Wizengamot in his pocket not to mention the sway he has over the school board”

“Don’t worry” Luna said “Government corruption and inherent political bias towards the rich can’t be too hard to defeat”

Draco but his head on the desk with a groan. “Where’s Harry with cream cakes when you need them?” He said to the wood grain. Hermione patted him distractedly on the head, eyes scanning the page in front of her.

* * *

“Hey, Lu?” Harry says quietly one evening, plopping down the book he was half-heartedly pouring over in a dramatic cloud of dust. It had just been Luna and Harry available tonight, as both Ginny and Ron had decided to watch the Ravenclaw Quidditch practices and Hermione and Draco were writing their arithmancy essays together across the room.

“Yes” She says, idly turning the page of her own tome ‘_Recente Cases ofe thee Moste Magical Courte ofe Englande: 1598’. _She wasn’t exactly feeling hopeful for its utility in Hagrid’s case. 

“Have you ever heard of a student newspaper being run at Hogwarts?” Harry asked, voice laced with obviously forced nonchalance.

Luna looked up at him, squinting against the low sun light which was shining coldly through the window. It was only a little after four but already the sun was setting. Living in Scotland meant that you saw less and less daylight as the year drew to a close, and when you did see it, it was the sharp cold sun of a winter.

The cold light momentarily illuminated Harry’s head. For a single second Luna could swear she saw him older then he was- a young man instead of a young teenager. A bright white light lit him up from the inside out, his black curls and green eyes somehow luminescent, his chocolate skin golden. Then she blinked. The sun sunk further into the sky, shrugging off the day. Harry became the same worried by again.

“Luna?” Harry repeated, looking perturbed.

“No” She said, still watching him closely in case the sudden vision would reappear. She suspected it was just the usual influx of Christmas nargles “But I think some fifth years had the same idea last year”

Harrys eyes sparkled with interest “Did they do anything?”

“Not really” Luna shrugged, closing her book. Obviously, Harry needed to have a Conversation about something “They got distracted by NEWTs. I thought it was an intriguing idea, though”

“Me too” Harry gushed, practically jumping out of his chair “That’s why I think you should start one”

“You think we should start a school newspaper?” Luna said.

“Nah” Harry said, blithe as ever “I think _you_ should start a school newspaper.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Harry” Luna said, trying her best to keep the condescension to a minimum “I’m only a second year”

“You’re Luna Lovegood” Harry emphasised, like it was something perennial and not just her name “And anyway I just want you to kick start the idea. We can ask an older student to really be, what’s that thing, Editor in charge?”

“Editor in Chief” Luna corrected despite herself “Why can’t you do it? You’re more well known than me anyway. Everyone thinks I’m loony”

“And they don’t think I am?”

“Well, yes. But you’re still _Harry Potter_” Luna admitted.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably “That’s exactly why I need you to do this. If I start it, or if I’m too heavily connected then the whole thing is forever tainted by the fact that Harry Potter created it. It can never be unbiased. Therefore, it can never be fully trusted” Harry gestured emphatically “That’s why it can’t be me who has the idea to start a newspaper”

“But it was your idea”

“They don’t have to know that” Harry pointed out.

“Why do you want a newspaper so badly? And why me?” Luna asked with mounting suspicion.

“There needs to be a source of information for the student body that isn’t dragged down by decades of political baggage, that isn’t funded by politically invested parties lobbying for their own opinions and interests to be met” Harry’s voice grew gradually more passionate as his tirade went on “And as for you- you’ve got the connections. The Quibbler’s as politically neutral as it gets in Wizarding Britain. Well. As politically neutral on important topics as it gets. Honestly your dads getting more impassioned about Fudge being part Goblin by the edition”

“But can you prove he isn’t?” Luna pointed out.

“You and I both know that the burden of proof lies with the accuser, not the accused” Harry said, momentarily distracted.

“And we both know that’s a corrupt system that is easily abused” Luna pointed out smugly.

“Anyway” Harry said pointedly, trying to get the conversation back on track “Will you do it?”

Luna stayed silent, really thinking about what Harry was suggesting. Luna knew that freedom of information was as important a human right as any other, and that in politically tense situations it became paramount to a society’s progression. Without an honest and unbiased source of information, anything and everything could be twisted and corrupted to suit a party of power’s motivations. Luna wasn’t stupid. She knew about the rumours of brewing war that had plagued her entire childhood.

“You think somethings coming. You think it will come while we’re at school”

Harry stared at her for a log moment, eyes as still and untelling as the black lake on a calm night. Then: “Luna. I know something’s coming.”

Luna stared into his eyes for a moment longer, trying to figure out the mystery that was Harry Potter. She sighed.

“Alright. Do you have a list of suggested people to work on this?”

Harry grinned in victory, pulling out a slim and plain muggle notebook. He plopped it onto his earlier abandoned tome, sending a mushroom cloud of decades old dust into the air once again.

“Where should we start?”

* * *

“Fudge has given another interview about what a terrible job he thinks Minister Bones is doing” Hermione said in disgust, tossing the offending Prophet onto the breakfast table. Hedwig jumps back and glares at her reproachfully “As if she isn’t the most effective Minister we’ve had in the last five terms”

“She’s only been in office a few months” Ron said. Luna wondered if Ron had just never developed a sense of self preservation, or if he really just enjoyed riling Hermione up at 8 AM when she was her most volatile. And over politics of all things.

“Well don’t you think that that statement just says everything that needs to be said about The System” Hermione snapped. Each word was dripped, dipped and lavished in a helpful serving of disdain.

Hermione often went on about what she called The System. Luna was usually inclined to agree with her opinions, but wished Hermione’s opinions didn’t so regularly come as a side-dish to her marmalade toast.

“Harrumph” Ron said, through a spray of half chewed breakfast sausage.

“Ron!” Ginny yelled in disgust, lobbing an un-buttered triangle of toast at Ron’s forehead. It hit it’s mark squarely.

“Oi!” Ron exclaimed, while Harry said “You should be a chaser, Gin” with an approving grin.

“If you don’t stop chewing with your mouth open, I’ll tell mum at Christmas” Ginny snapped.

Ginny had spent the last week threatening to ‘tell mum at Christmas’ over everything minor to major that Ronald happened to do. As Christmas break grew ever closer, so did the frequency of the phrase.

Ron groaned “I half wish I wasn’t going home for Christmas with the way you’ve been harping on”

“Don’t jinx yourself” Harry said mildly, as always unaffected by the sibling’s banter.

“What’s going to happen in two days?” Ron snorted “’sides, I’d just go with you and ‘Mione if I couldn’t go home”

“Oh, I’m _sure_ Remus and Sirius would love the unplanned intrusion” Hermione said, still snappish.

“They wouldn’t mind” Harry soothed “They love having a full house. I’ll bet we’ll go home, and they’ll have accidentally adopted two more stray cats”

“They’ll have a bloody cattery soon” Ron said in disbelief.

Harry shrugs “Don’t know why” He grinned slyly “It’s surprising they’re both cat people”

Ron and Hermione giggled while Luna, Ginny and Neville shared a look of confusion.

“Where are you going for Xmas, Nev?” Ginny asked mildly.

Nev blushed fiercely, as he did any time Ginny so much as looked at him “J-Just going to my Grans, as usual”

“I hope that dreadful uncle of yours isn’t staying this year” Harry said protectively. Neville, if possible, went even redder. Harry was the only one who could achieve that shade on him.

“N-no. Thank Merlin” He said weakly, grinning at Harry who beamed back.

“Good. Hey Lu, you never said where in the world you and your dad are going this year? Annual expedition isn’t it?”

Luna shrugged “Not this year” Usually she and her father would spend the Christmas hols in various locations, searching for crumple-horned Snorcacks. Last year they’d spent a lovely if unfruitful fortnight in Iceland “Dad’s taken some freelance work in Afghanistan for Magical Creatures Monthly, so I’m staying at Hogwarts”

“On your own?” Harry gaped, and everyone else in their group was looking at her aghast too.

“Luna you never said!” Ginny exclaimed, looking upset “You can’t stay alone all of Christmas”

“Well daddy only owled me Monday” Luna said, shrugging.

“Oh no way” Harry said fiercely “You’re staying at mine”

“Can’t. McGonagall won’t let me” Luna said “But thank you Harry, you’re sweet”

“She has to let you” Harry says furiously.

“Harry’s right. Mate” Ron said, and Luna got the quiet thrill she always did at being one of the few Ron called ‘mate’ “No one should be on their own at Christmas”

After everyone else had chimed in with their agreement, Harry was fixed in his goal. Luna still wasn’t sure about McGonagall- but if anyone’s stubbornness could rival hers then it was Harry Potter’s.

* * *

“Glad you could stay with us in the end” Remus Lupin said, opening the door to a previously hidden, and unexpectedly Gothic, London townhouse.

The Professor had driven them from King’s cross station in a yellow mini that both he and Harry had reffered to as ‘Sharon’. Professor Lupin had explained that Sirius had named it Sharon back when Remus had acquired it in 1979, and it had unfortunately stuck..

“Why Sharon?” Hermione had asked.

“He said it should have a middle-aged name because only middle-aged people should be driving it” Professor Lupin had said with a voice full of equal parts exasperation and humour.

Despite its outside appearance, the inside of the townhouse wasn’t gothic at all inside. In fact, whoever had decorated it seemed to have only one goal in mind; to cram as many colours into as small a space as magically possible. The general appearance of the hallway was thus similar to a psychedelic trip circa the seventies.

“Oh God” Harry said, “Did you let Sirius try and decorate again?”

“‘let’ is too strong a word” Professor Lupin said with clear pain. He sighed and walked to the bottom of the stairs “Padfoot! We’re home!” He hollered.

The sound of a scuffle and a bark preceded the experience of a large shaggy black dog bounding down the stairs. On the final-but-one step the dog shifted, a quick anthropomorphic change, and a man stood in his place. Luna had seen Professor McGonagall change often enough to not be too shocked, but it was still a surprise.

“Harry” The man boomed, striding forward and engulfing Harry in a hug.

Sirius Black wasn’t as scary as he had been made out to be. He was half a head shorter than Professor Lupin, but much broader across the shoulders and chest. His curly black hair was cut neatly to his shoulders, and well kept. He was clean shaven and fresh faced- a million miles from the scraggly and vicious man he had been presented as. His eyes sparkled with joy and his genuine smile carried unbridled mirth in its corners.

He spun Harry around in his embrace, Harry laughing loudly and smacking the older man’s back. When he put Harry down, he ruffled his hair, before kissing Professor Lupin soundly on the lips.

“Welcome home my boys” He said warmly.

Professor Lupin seemed to shrink in age under his boyfriend’s joyful gaze, he grinned back, eyes sparkling. Harry looked at them both with un-masked affection and happiness. It was a sight almost too much to take in. Luna fought the immediate reaction to think about purple smoke and cry about her own lost and incomplete family.

“Luna was able to come home with us, Pads” Professor Lupin said, nodding over at Luna and Hermione.

Sirius spun around to smile at them warmly “Ah, I bet Minnie loved that”

“I think her exact words were ‘organisational nightmare’”

“Hey! That’s my term of endearment for you” Sirius joked, looking over his shoulder at the Professor who rolled his eyes while Hermione and Luna laughed.

“It’s brilliant to have you girls here” Sirius said brightly “Your mum called this morning and said they got to France at 4am today, Hermione. She seemed happy”

“Glad I didn’t have to get up that early” Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.

“Nope” Sirius said, popping the ‘P’ “And instead of lousy France you get the unrefined Lupin-Black Holiday experience. C’est la vie! Strap in kids”

“Merlin” Lupin sighed, grabbing one of their bags “Don’t scare them away when they’re barely over the threshold, Pads”

* * *

Grimmauld place- as Luna found out the townhouse was ironically called- was a much different place to live then her home. Her father wasn’t dull or boring by anyone’s standards, but he often lost himself in his work and left Luna to her own devices. Sirius and Remus weren’t like that. They seemed overjoyed to spend their time joking and laughing with the three teens occupying their house. Sirius often started the morning by announcing what that days ‘adventure’ was going to be over breakfast.

Of course, Sirius’ definition of ‘adventure’ often changed. One day they would be on a hop-on hop-off bus tour all across muggle London, the next a picnic by Stonehenge. One morning he had declared that that day’s adventure was an endeavour to stay in pyjamas all day and watch muggle films on Remus’ magically adapted projector. 

Luna enjoyed the banal routines that took place in Grimmauld; Sitting at the kitchen table while Remus made hot chocolate on the stove; Playing card games in the dining room in the evening; Getting ready for bed beside Hermione; The chaotic rush of meal prep.

She and Hermione had grown closer in their stay. Luna had often felt that Hermione was close-minded, and she knew that Hermione in return saw her as supercilious. But as they spent more time together one-on-one Luna began to understand the older girl more. Hermione had a softer side, one that was egregiously hidden by a thick membrane of self-protection and insecurity. It wasn’t a refusal to believe in the outlandish that had her judging Luna, it was a refusal to believe in the outlandish- or anything at all- without proof. Hermione looked at the whole world as a court room with she as the constantly deliberating jury.

It wasn’t as though the two girls had suddenly realised that they were incredibly similar- they weren’t- or that they had changed at all, but as the days went on they began to put more effort into getting along. They didn’t have a natural friendship, but they had both learned that it was a friendship they were willing to try and work at.

Luna still sometimes found herself shut out from Hermione and Harry’s private world, though she didn’t mind. Whenever they would sequester themselves in one of the houses forgotten bedrooms- replete with stacks of notes, maps and pictures that Luna had only caught glimpses of- Luna would go the library. Remus had explained that the library in Grimmauld was an amalgamation of the Black family’s ancestral library and Remus’ personal collection, as well as Lily Potter’s small but sizeable library which had been left to Remus after her death. Luna liked to go through the books to find any inscriptions of annotations that the various book proprietors may have left.

She had a few favourites already. First had been the dog-eared copy paperback of _The Hobbit_ which had margins packed with crayon-penned commentary and critique seemingly addressed straight to Tolkien himself. In the inside cover, in pink crayon, had been written ‘Lily Evans, Age 8’ with an address for a place named Spinner’s End. A map had informed her this was somewhere above Nottingham.

Then there had been the small volume of T.S Elliot poetry with the inscription:

‘_Moony, _

_‘For last years words belong to last year’s language  
And next year’s words await another voice.’_

_Forgive me  
Your Padfoot’_

Luna had heard Sirius and Professor Lupin use these names for each other. She wondered what Sirius was asking forgiveness for or even when he’d asked.

She loved finding these mementos of lives she hadn’t lived, feelings she could never fully understand. Luna sometimes began to think that she was the only real person in the world. She was afraid that every time she blinked her eyes everyone else stopped existing. That every time she left a room it became empty.

She couldn’t explain such a selfish idea, but it still plagued her. The anxiety of the unprovable notion sometimes kept her up at night.

Small, recorded secrets like these calmed her. It reassured her that the world kept going even when she turned her back. That she didn’t have to keep watch constantly to keep it alive.

* * *

On Christmas night, after a full day of not getting out of their pyjamas and eating much too much food, Sirius finally declared that it was time to open presents.

Luna had almost forgotten the pile of presents stacked precariously under the tree, spilling outwards. They had been lost in the thrill of three practically violent rounds of charades, an almost disastrous game of Pictionary and far too many off-key renditions of Christmas songs- both muggle and wizarding. Luna thought it was possibly against the Geneva conventions to play Celestina Warbeck back-to-back with “Wonderful Christmas Time”.

“You first it seems, Hermione” Harry said picking a present of the pile at random.

“There should be an identical one next to it for Luna” Lupin said. He had a lap full of fluffy ginger cat and seemed perfectly content to sit back as Harry played Christmas elf to them all.

Harry passed her an identical present, square and neatly wrapped with her name printed on it. She smiled at him in thanks.

By the time Harry was done handing out gifts they all had equally sizeable piles of gifts and both Hermione and Luna were looking at theirs in confusion.

“I had your parents send your presents over to us. Thought it would be nicer for you to open them on actual Christmas” Sirius said simply.

Luna smiled at him in thanks and Hermione looked slightly watery-eyed.

“That’s- Well that’s actually brilliant, Sirius. Thank you” Hermione said, voice slightly choked.

“See” Sirius said smugly to Lupin “I can do thoughtful things”

“Never said you couldn’t” Remus said with an imperious smirk.

They all dug in to their gifts and by the time they had finished a fresh fall of decimated wrapping paper littered the living room carpet. “This can be Kreacher’s present” Sirius said with a toothy grin.

Harry rolled his eyes “I gave him a proper present this morning, anyway”

Sirius pouted “Spoil sport”

“Look” Luna said dreamily, pulling out the never-ending Lolly-pop that Hermione had gotten her “There’s still one present left”

Under the tree was a small ring box. Harry leaned over and picked it up. “No label” He said.

“Ah” Sirius said, nerves creeping into his voice “That would be from me”

He stepped up and plucked the box out of Harry’s hand, tossing it nervously in the air and catching it. Harry gave him a wondering look. Sirius grinned ruefully, and then he turned and knelt down in front of Professor Lupins armchair.

Lupins eyes widened, suddenly shifting forward to sit up straighter and in doing so dislodged the cat who gave a bitter hiss. He gaped at Sirius. Hermione let out a gasp and covered her mouth with both hands. Harry clapped is hands together just once, as if impulsively. His grin was splitting his face in half.

Joy welled up in Luna’s chest. The displaced cat resettled itself on her knee and she clutched at it gently.

“Sirius-” Lupin croaked.

“Shh” Sirius said, smiling nervously “Let me- Let me do this properly, yeah?” His eyes began to fill with tears “God. God it really hasn’t been very easy for us has it, Moons?”

Lupin let out a wet chuckle “I thought it was a breeze”

“Leave it to Remus Lupin to be sarcastic even when I’m proposing to you” Sirius joked and Lupin gasped out a choked laugh

“You haven’t gotten to it yet” Lupin said ruefully.

“God, you’re so insufferable. Merlin knows why I love you so much” Sirius said, scrubbing a hand over his wet eyes and took a fortifying breath “Do you remember after James and Lily got married? We were in our shitty Mile’s End flat, god it didn’t even have running water-”

“Leave it to me to nab the only rich spoiled brat with no money”

“Oh, shush.” Sirius laughed “Well we went back to yours after the wedding and we were both a bit drunk and then you got down on one knee-“

“_Pads_. I didn’t think you remembered”

“You said ‘Sirius Black, there’s no one else on earth I want to spend the rest of my days with-‘ “

“‘- I hope I live another two millennia so I can learn to fall in love with you in a billion new ways” Lupin finished softly.

“And I said yes, but only if it was three more millennia’s” Sirius answered, and opened the ring box with a deep click “Well Remus Lupin, its been a decade and a half but would you still want to spent the next three millennia’s with me?”

Lupin ignored the ring, instead he launched himself out of his chair and onto Sirius, burying his face into his neck. “Yes, you idiot. Of fucking course”

“Language” Harry crowed happily, he was standing on his feet and cheering.

“Oh, how wonderful” Hermione said, wiping at her eyes.

Luna smiled and stroked the cat. She bent down next to its ears and whispered “I think your dads just got engaged. You better be excited”

The cat lets out a possibly unrelated exhale and takes no notice.

* * *

The first edition of “The Hogwarts Oracle” was distributed outside the great hall in mid-February. Iphigenia Watts, a fifth-year half-blood Ravenclaw who Luna was secretly quite intimidated by, stood proudly on a soapbox advertising it. She was the editor-in-chief of the Oracle and never a more organised captain had there been. She kept a tight schedule, and an even tighter ship.

Her Slytherin girlfriend Kassandra (in charge of the Layout) stood slightly behind her grinning and handing out copies to slightly intimidated students. But there actually seemed to be a lot of interest in the paper which made Luna unreasonably joyful for a project Harry had practically shanghaied her into.

They had recruited of a substantial group people to the paper before Christmas, and in January they had their first meeting. Kassandra had decked out a newly-dusted abandoned classroom with two neat rows of desks, an oversized blackboard and an army of magical type-writers. The classroom next door had been turned into a printing room/dark room which had left Colin close to tears. On the doors to the rooms Iphegenia had proudly spelled a sign reading _“Offices of The Hogwarts Oracle” _while the whole staff had watched.

The staff of the Oracle was largely made out of budding reporters with eyes on a career in journalism and people Luna’s friend group new personally and could therefore guilt into joining.

It had been decided at their first meeting that the paper would be a monthly publication. Current events, Hogwarts news and think pieces and educational articles would make up most of the paper. They were also accepting any submitted short stories or poems. Colin’s photos were prominently featured, taken around the castle throughout the month. Special student achievements were listed in the back by teachers. Dumbledore, surprisingly animated about the idea, submitted a crossword and promised to do it for each publication to come.

Luna herself wrote articles about Magical creatures, as well as smaller sections about the undiscovered creatures she and her father searched for. She also helped with the current events team and helped Colin any time he needed a photography assistant. Her first article was a think peace about the gender-based morality of Unicorns and how it was uncomfortably binary.

Oliver Wood had been recruited to do Quidditch, with Ginny set to take it up after he left at the end of that year.

Neville Happily worked with Professor Sprout to create a “Fun Herbology Facts!” two-page spread which proved surprisingly popular.

An anonymous contributor (though Luna was privately pretty convinced it was Draco) wrote a column about Music, both muggle and magical. The by-line referred to the writer simply as ‘The Music Mage’.

A fourth year Hufflepuff by the name of David wrote fabulous articles about the History of Hogwarts that were more interesting then Bins could ever hope to be. Luna hoped that the articles renewed interest in history for the student population. His friend Paloma and a Sixth-year Slytherin called Hattie (who had admitted rather embarrassed that she was Rita Skeeter’s niece) were in charge of current affairs.

Ron and Dean had found a surprising dream-team in producing a comic- with Ron writing and Dean illustrating. Seamus wrote a small column about Football for the muggleborns.

Luna thought the whole organisation was brilliant, far more brilliant than she could have ever hoped. New ideas found their way into the suggestion box outside the office almost daily- some of them were quite brilliant. Someone had suggested they include a list of funniest point-loss reasons from the month which had promptly found its way into the next edition.

Yes. The Hogwarts Oracle shortly found itself to be a more popular publication among the Castle population than any established newspaper, and on print day hardly a student could be found without a paper in their hands.

Luna noticed that on that particular day every month Harry hardly changed his facial expression from a beaming smile the whole day.

* * *

“Here” Ginny said, ducking her head and blushing.

They were outside by the lake, tightly wrapped in scarves and hats due to the icy weather- because Ginny had insisted that she had a surprise for them all. But she’d led Luna down a whole half-an-hour earler than she’d told the others to gather.

Beside the frozen lake there were several pairs of pink ice-skates. “I just thought” Ginny explained “If we had to have such a frozen valentines day, then we might as well have some fun yeah? I got Professor McGonagall to check the safety and everything and she said the ice was thick enough, so”

Ginny seemed unusually nervous. “I think it’s fantastic” Luna said, grinning warmly and reaching over to take Ginny’s mitten-ed hand in hers.

Ginny blushed as red as her hair but smiled back at Luna, reassured. “Well I thought we could go first, yeah?”

“Valentines day ice-skating with my best-friend. Perfect” Luna said sincerely.

Ginny looked at her deeply, eyes dancing with unspoken feeling “Happy Valentines day Lulu”

“Happy Valentines day Ginevra” Luna said softly and after a quiet beat she craned her head slightly and kissed Ginny softly on the cheek.

Then she ran giggling towards the skates, shouting out a challenge that Ginny couldn’t beat her in a race. It was a wonderful afternoon.

Even if poor Neville did fall over more times than possible to count.

* * *

Luna and Harry took a break from Hermione’s exhaustive revision sessions one evening in April. Ron would have escaped with them too, but Hermione often focused a disproportionate amount of pressure on Ronald and guilted him the most when he tried to beg off.

“She’s crazy” Harry said jovially “Exams are months away”

“Plus its literally my second year. Don’t know why Ginny’s so bothered” Luna agreed.

“Think she wants to get all E’s and above on her Owls like Bill did” Harry said.

Luna rolled her eyes. “That’s years away”

“She puts too much pressure on herself” Harry agreed.

They were sitting on the deep sill of a large window, feet tangled together. Luna lay her head gently on the cool damp glass. Rain spattered the panes of glass gently. The grey sky stretched out dismally, thick and heavy with water. April showers, she supposed.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked quietly. Luna shifted her head slightly so that she could see him. He wasn’t looking at her, instead he too was staring out at the rainy grounds. That made the whole conversation easier.

It had been unseasonably sunny on that day- the complete opposite to how it was now. Exactly four years later. The sky had been periwinkle blue. No clouds at all. Not in the sky.

But in her mother’s laboratory a purple cloud had filled the whole room, engulfing Luna in its horrifying permanence. Changing her life with a single bad spell.

Luna didn’t know how Harry knew the date, but she appreciated it. It was never nice to be alone in ones wn grief. It was even worse to have to speak grief out loud into the world. Re’live it with every explanation.

“I am as I always am” Luna told him.

He turned his head and looked at her. They were mirrored then, knees tucked up and feet tangled, heads resting on the cool window.

“All I remember about my parents is a green light” Harry said quietly “There are lost of things I know, but that’s the only thing I actually remember”

Luna took a moment to swallow the tightness in her throat away. “Purple. I mean. She died in this cloud of purple smoke. Like a magic trick”

Harry was quiet for a long moment, before reaching over and taking Luna’s hand in his own.

“But she’s proud of me. I know that. It’s the only thing in the whole world I’m not uncomfortable to be certain about” Luna continued, tears finally slipping from her eyes “She always told me-“ Luna’s voice cuts off with a choke.

Harry squeezed her hand, telling her everything was okay. He waited for her words to come with the understanding patience of someone who knew the pain of loosing one’s mother. The person who brought you into the world lost to your world forever.

“She told me that the thing’s we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end” Luna said finally, voice steady if not strong.

Something flashed in Harry’s eyes and he smiled sadly. “You know I had a friend who told me something very similar” He looked back out at the grounds, as if looking back through years “Long time ago” He looked back at her, smiling “But you never forget a friend”

It was a better day than it could have been, even if it wasn’t good.

* * *

In the end they didn’t need to worry too much about exams- everything went smoothly of course. Hermione still spent an hour-long autopsy on every single exam. Luna was glad she had taken different ones so that she didn’t have to be subjected to it. Hermione did however quiz her to determine what had changed from her second-year exams to Luna’s.

_‘Crazy’ _Ron had mouthed at her with commiseration.

It was after exams that everything began to go wrong all at once.

Ron suggested the sleepover a few weeks before exams and they decided to hold it on Friday. The Gryffindor bunch trekked over to pick up Draco and Luna from Ravenclaw, and they filed in a line of two’s towards the room of requirement- ducklings trailing behind Harry. 

“-and Harry will probably _still_ get all O’s even though he never bloody revises--”

“Wow Hermione, _language”_ Ron joked, then quickly dropped his smile when Hermione gave him a look like a Cruciatus curse.

“How is that, anyway?” Ginny wondered aloud, sending Harry a pointed look.

“What?” Hermione wondered, broken from her rant. They were at the RoR now, and Harry held the door open while they filed past him.

“You never revise, you hardly do your homework. How do you get the same grades than _Hermione?” _Ginny said, accusatory. 

“You barely go to classes” Ron added blithely. He dumped their bag of things on the floor. The room had created the perfect room for their sleepover- the floor covered in roll matts and pillows and fluffy blankets.

Luna watched Hermione and Harry exchange one of their patented Shared Looks and she laughed to herself, prepared for whatever crazy answer they were going to give.

“Jealous Potter would be better in Ravenclaw?” Draco joked, elbowing Ron in the ribs. Ron rolled his eyes and messed up the blonde’s hair. Draco, rather embarrassingly, gave a screech and ran over to a mirror the room had provided to fix his hair.

“I guess I just… know a lot of the stuff already” Harry said, shrugging and sitting down on a bean bag.

“So weird” Ron said, rolling his eyes “You and Hermione both- you read too much”

Ginny didn’t look satisfied, but let it go anyway. They all spread out across the floor, Ron and Hermione clustered close together as usual despite their constant bickering. Ginny took a spot to Luna’s left Neville sat on her right, knees pulled up awkwardly to his chest. It would take a few hours, as usual, for Neville’s base level of anxiety to chill and for him to relax. Draco pushed Harry until he shifted over, and flopped next to him on the giant bean bag, draping his legs over Harry.

Draco was like a kitten. He constantly sought Harry’s attention, good or bad. If he had to irritate Harry into giving him that attention, he would. Then when he had the attention he’d act aloof and preen, then sulk when this inevitably made Harry stop paying attention. It was a vicious cycle, but it was funny to watch. Draping himself on Harry and being as close to him as possible was one of the blondes favourite methods, it seemed.

“We should play truth or dare” Neville suggested softly.

Ron and Harry both groaned, but Draco and Ginny made affirmative noises.

“Come on” Hermione said “Maybe it would be fun”

“Fine” Ron sighed, long-suffering “But I am not answering any questions about girly stuff”

“Ronald. We talked about this” Ginny snapped. Ron rolled his eyes. Ginny had started a campaign to make Ron a feminist a few months back.

“Yeah yeah, Sorry. No kissy stuff, then”

“Kissy?” Ginny shrieked mockingly “Are you seven?”

“You know what I mean” Ron huffed, while they all laughed at him.

“I’ll go first” Luna said, crossing her ankles and sitting up straight “Hm. Neville? Truth or dare?”

“Truth” Neville said cautiously.

“Are there actually any plants in the greenhouses that could get you high?” This had been a persistent rumour for a few months now, with Fred and George putting a lot of effort into trying to find out.

Everyone snorted at the question and Neville blushed. “Merlin, Luna. Hm…” He paused. “There…. _are _possibly some plants that could be used for that. But that isn’t why they’re there”

He seemed pretty nervous about admitting this, as if he had broken some intense code of Herbology ethics. This was probably a reasonable reaction as Ron immediately whooped and declared they were going to the greenhouses.

“Shut up” Harry said “Okay, Nev. You’re go”

They went on a few rounds, everyone having a go. Only Harry and Ginny choosing dare which led Harry licking Hermione’s shoe and the funny and teetering sight of Ginny trying to balance on the tallest stack of pillows she could make. The truths were simple and often funny- just targeted questions to make fun of embarrassing things they’d done in front of each other.

Then they came back around to Harry.

“Truth or dare?” Ginny asked, smile sly.

“Truth” Harry said cautiously.

Ginny’s eyes lit up and anxiety bubbled in Luna’s stomach. “What are you and Hermione always whispering about?”

Harry squinted at her “Nothing. Schoolwork”

“It’s _Truth_, Harry. Don’t be dense. You have to tell the _truth_”

“Nothing! Like Ron said, we’re just book-worms” Harry insisted.

“Oh, come on!” Ginny cried, smiling incredulously.

But before she or Harry could go on a sharp ringing sounded. It was coming from Harry’s pocket. They all went quiet and stared at him.

Harry fumbled quickly for his pocket and pulled out a compact mirror which was blaring with a red light. His eyes went wide, and he flipped the mirror open. A voice came frantically out of it.

“Harry! Where are you? Are you okay?” It sounded like Professor Lupin, but she couldn’t be sure. Ginny gave her a worried look.

“I’m fine” Harry said, confused “What’s wrong? Is Sirius with you?”

“He is. Nothing’s wrong” Even Luna could hear the lie in the man’s voice “We just needed to know where you are”

“I’m in the room of requirement” Harry said slowly “But--”

“Stay there” Professor Lupin said sharply “Don’t move. I’ll ring you again later, okay?”

“Remus--” Harry said, worked up. But the mirror suddenly stopped glowing red. The Professor was gone.

Harry stared blankly at the mirror for a second, and then he was up and running over to their bag of stuff. He threw out bags of popcorn and snacks, scattered a pack of snap cards across the floor, and then finally he pulled out an old piece of parchment. He clutched it with relief.

“Harry” Hermione said, voice full of worry. But she didn’t go on— just watched him.

Harry tapped the parchment with his wand, muttering something. Then he unfolded the parchment- it seemed larger and Luna could see that ink was scrolling itself across the yellow page.

“What is that?” Ginny said, leaping up to her feet and going for a closer look.

“It’s a map” Harry muttered, eyes scanning the page rapidly.

“What does it--?”

“Give me a moment, Gin” Harry said, not cruelly but clearly focused. Ginny stopped talking and instead just watched over his shoulder.

Harry’s eyes kept roaming over the map frantically- then they stopped. “Fuck!” Harry yelled, throwing the map to the ground and tugging his hands through his hair.

“It’s Pettigrew, isn’t it?” Hermione asked, but it didn’t sound like a question. She sounded resigned to the fact.

“He must have come through the shack” Harry said despondently, biting his fist.

“The shack?” Ron asked, standing up too and looking worried “The Shrieking shack?”

“Yeah there’s a tunnel from the shack to the Whomping Willow” Hermione said hurriedly as if this was common knowledge.

“What?” Draco yelled, coming to Harry’s side. “What the hell?”

Draco stared at the map on the floor with bewilderment “When did you even get this?”

“Stole it back from Filch’s office. Sirius and Remus made it at school, with my dad” Harry said with distraction.

Now Luna, the only one still sitting down apart from Neville, was interested. She walked over and picked up the map from the floor. It was a detailed map of Hogwarts and its grounds with labelled footsteps trailing all across it. The grounds were sparse with names, so she quickly spotted the name that had made Harry react like this.

_Peter Pettigrew _was walking across the grounds from the direction of the Whomping willow towards the school.

“Why has nobody noticed him?” Neville says over her shoulder. They’re all crowded about in a huddle now. A scrimmage like in muggle Rugby.

“He can be a rat, remember” Ginny mutters and Ron shudders in disgust.

“Don’t remind me”

“What are we going to do?” Luna said, looking up at Harry intently.

Harry stared back at her, green eyes boring back into hers. They flicker, staring into her left eye, her right. Searching for the resolve she has hidden there. He blinks.

“Here’s what we’re going to do—”

* * *

Peter Pettigrew is a small man, at least a foot shorter than her daddy is. Next to willowy Lupin he looks miniscule. He doesn’t carry shortness the way Sirius does- with stocky surety and a personality to make up the extra inches. He wears it like a disfigurement. Like it’s something he is hallowed by.

Luna thinks that Peter Pettigrew is half bitterness. Like if you cut him in half he’d have rings like a tree and they’d grow blacker and blacker until you got to the very last one and that one would be rotten. He makes Luna’s skin crawl.

“Sirius, _please_” He whimpers from the floor. His hands are bound with a silver chain (“Anti-Animagus charms” Auror Tonks had explained.) “I’m your friend”

The man’s voice is wheedling. He’s clearly desperate, though Luna doesn’t blame him. There are at least a dozen people towering over him. Harry stands just behind his guardians, face stony. Dumbledore as well as three Aurors and a ministry official are also clustered around, though in far more official capacity than that of Luna and her friends. The ministry official they sent was Fudge. He keeps sending murderous glares at both Dumbledore and Sirius.

Sirius spits on the ground near Pettigrew’s feet “You were our friend because James let you hang around with us. And in return you killed him”

“Sirius” Lupin says warningly “He isn’t worth an explanation”

“He should be dead” Harry says, but he says it quietly as if to himself.

“Now, now young man, that is not for you to decide” Fudge says imperiously.

“Neither is it down to you, sir” Sirius says with poisonous sweetness.

“Thank you for getting him” Auror Tonks says to their group, smiling awkwardly despite the tension.

They’d all split off to surround him, each of them armed with a butterfly net and a small cage. It had been rather simple actually. “Simplicity has its perks” Harry had said with a shrug and no one dared question why he had butterfly nets and cages so readily available. Odd kid, Harry Potter. You learnt to accept things fast.

“That’s okay” Ronald says weakly after no one else responds “Will you take him to Azkaban?”

Tonks opens her mouth to speak, but Sirius cuts across. “No. Back to Ministry holding cells so he can be evidence at my last trial” He looks pointedly at Fudge “I might actually get my bloody name cleared one of these days”

Fudge goes puce under his lime bowler hat and Ginny makes wide eyes at Luna that clearly scream ‘awkward’.

“Er” Tonks says awkwardly “We should probably get going?”

It takes another ten minutes for the group of Aurors and the criminal to finally take off, but finally they were disappearing across the grounds and towards the gates. Luna walks over to Harry who’s still staring after them pensively.

“Are you alright?” She asks. Harry’s whole demeanour is illusive. Luna is once again struck by the odd feeling of wrongness, like Harry is a square peg shoved through a round hole. Like he doesn’t fit.

Harry looks at her, brow furrowed. “I suppose” He looks back after the group of auroras “I suppose I have to be alright”

“We don’t have to be anything” Luna said simply.

“No” Harry agreed “But we are the things we think will hurt the people we love least” He shrugs “And for me that means I’m alright”

“Even when you’re not” Luna said.

“Even when I’m not” Harry agreed.

That should have been the end of the day. They should simply have turned around and gone to walk up the castle steps. Gone back forlornly to their respective towers and beds, mourning their lost sleepover. They should have been able to put the terrible case of Peter Pettigrew behind them.

A jack rabbit Patronus appears next to Dumbledore before they even make it to the first step. Every one of them stops dead in their tracks.

_“This is Auror Tonks. The Minister- I mean Fudge- He broke Pettigrews chains. I don’t know why. We have Fudge in custody but--”_

They all wait with bated breath for what is surely to come.

_“—But Pettigrew transfigured. He got away in the chaos. We’re tracking him now. I’m so sorry”_

The Rabbit dissolved and they all stared at where it had been for a single moment. Then Sirius let out a string of expletives and kicked the first stone step.

Luna looked at Harry. He was white as a sheet.

* * *

"Hey" Neville said suddenly into the deathly silence that surrounded them as they walked up to their floors as a group "Whatever happened with Buckbeak's trial?" 

A beat of silence. Hermione and Harry exchanged a panicked glance. Luna realised that she too had almost entirely forgotten the event. 

"Got dropped" Harry said at the same exact time as Hermione blurted out "We won the case" 

"Okay" Neville drawled doubtfully, but everyone was obviously too exhausted to push the issue further than that. 

But Luna kept her eye on Harry. She was certain she was the only one who saw him tug nervously on a thick golden chain around his neck. 

_Huh_, she thought. _I didn't know Harry wore jewellery. _

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_Suffice to say that everything right now is- excuse my language—rather a shit-show.  
Dumbledore’s madder then I’ve ever seen him, kid. Swear if he didn’t have as many morals as he does he’d be baying to cut Fudge’s head off. A quick severing charm to solve all our problems, he? Sorry guess macabre is getting me through all this. _

_Remus says this is because Fudge blames me for loosing the Minister position. I personally think it’s because he’s a prize twat. Think Dumbledore might be on my side about this one.  
Looks like my last trial (the one they were finally going to decide at after two bloody years of bureaucratic nonsense!) is being pushed until the rat can be located. He is my star witness after all. What a mess.  
Sorry to add to the stress but I’ve got some more bad news; we’re pushing the wedding. We’re going to spend the summer looking for Peter. Now I know you probably want to come too, but it isn’t safe. Granted we’ll mainly be sleeping in dodgy hotels across Europe, but the sentiment stands. Me and <strike>your da</strike> Remus will be gone most of the summer, unless we find him quick. You’ll have to stay with Molly and Arthur. _

_ I’m so sorry Kiddo. I thought all of this was behind us. But it will be over soon and we can be together as our little family okay? _

_I love you and I’ll see you soon. Hopefully I’ll bring the rat with me.  
Padfoot_

_p.s Moony will be back later tonight so go see him in his office if you want a hug. _

* * *

Luna knew she was lucky to have the friends she did- and she knew that she wouldn’t have them at all if just a few small things were different. If the Weasleys weren’t the closest Wizarding family to her house. If Harry wasn’t so persistent. If Draco wasn’t in her house.

So easily everything could have been different. She could have been all alone- Loony Lovegood and her no-friends. Now she was Loony Lovegood and her no-good friends. A rat-pack always in trouble, always together.

Their group shouldn’t work, and it definitely shouldn’t work as well as it does, but everyday she’s amazed. By the joy, the laughter, the ease. She sits at the breakfast table surrounded by unexpected friends and sometimes the luck of it all is too much. Contentedness threatens to burst its way from the confines of her skin, overflow into the world. There is too much love.

Luna loses things often- her shoes, her belongings. Her herbology homework (especially when she doesn’t want to do it). She lost her mother.

But she knows she’s going to do everything she can to make sure she never looses a single one of her friends.

_Friends, _she thinks with awe at the leaving feast of her second year. Right then Luna Lovegood’s smile isn’t dreamy or vacant at all- it’s full, full, full. It’s radiant like the first morning sun. It burns.

“You okay?” Harry mouths, catching her eyes across the table and giving her a weak smile in return. He’s still sad about Pettigrew, put pushing through for them.

She shakes her head. She keeps her sunny smile blazing right on him. “Oh, Harry. I’m _brilliant_” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for reading.  
if you've got time i'd love it if you checked out my new one-shot "The Spider, the Snake, The scared". it's about Regulus if that's your jam.  
next up: Ronniekins


	4. Ronald Weasley and the Insidious Inadequacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ha ha ha i'm sorry i take so long. i guess the plus side of covid-19 is that i'm being sent back form uni so i have like six months of boredom. sad times at ridgemont high.  
i stayed up far too late to finish these scenes and so the only edit I've done is a typo one. ill be back soon to edit properly but here it is for now.  
i get so happy when you tell me your thoughts so please, please do. believe me it means so much to me  
warnings for this chapter: character death, mentions of violence, darker themes

“I bet you two galleons that Ireland catches the snitch before Krum” Harry said, baring his teeth as he bit into a red liquorice wand.

Ron looked at him incredulously. It was a few hours before sunset, but the light was already dimming, blanketing the campsite with a dim mellow light. A haze of campfire smoke hung languidly over them. Harry was sprawled on a roll mat he’d dragged next to the fire. They’d been chatting nonsense since early afternoon, Ron’s brothers and a amused Hermione interjecting periodically.

“You’re an idiot” Ron told his best friend with a laugh. “Double or nothing.” He shook Harry’s hand and pushed down the sentimental joy in his chest with a quip about Harry’s stupid face.

* * *

Ron Weasley is the sixth son of a second son. The storybooks will tell you that there is nothing special about this. They’d be right. There is nothing special about Ronald Weasley’s birth.

Molly Weasley (nee. Prewett and don’t you forget it) goes into labour at six in the morning, just after she places that mornings bread loaf in the airing cupboard for a final rise. By nine Ron Weasley, baby-pink and not making a fuss, is swaddled against her chest as she orders Arthur to finally put the bread in the oven or breakfast will be _ruined._ Not much stands out to Molly about Ron Weasley’s birth apart from how conveniently quick it had been versus, say, that palaver with the twins.

Neither is there anything notably unique about his childhood. A collection of mundane fears; spiders (severe), heights (he’s working on it) and, though he’ll never tell a soul, inadequacy. A soft toy called Mr. Babbleford he’s had since his birth; the first and only toy he played with that wasn’t a hand-me-down. Special birthday teas around a sibling-crowded dinner table. Small hands clutching the worn lintel of the kitchen door listening to his parents worry about money. A little sister he didn’t want but loves desperately.

Nobody would think there is anything unusual or special about Ron Weasley.

Then Harry Potter comes blazing into Ron’s train compartment with a baffled Hermione Granger in tow. Headed straight towards him like Ron Weasley is the most special thing in the world.

Ron thinks it’s okay if the only person he’s ever special to is Harry.

* * *

“You. Are. Fucking. With. Me.” Ron says, holding four glittering galleons up to the hanging camping lantern.

Swearing is a new thing for Ron. He’d decided that he couldn’t let Harry go about being the only sailor-mouthed lunatic in their friendship group. They’re practically adults now. Ron can graduate from the school of blasphemous _bloody hell’s!_ to more stirring expletives.

“Nope!” Harry crows, oddly cheerful about having lost two galleons “Who could have predicted that game?”

“Who indeed?” Hermione said snidely, shooting Harry an unreadable look.

“Yep” Harry said glibly “Totally and utterly unpredictable outcome of events”

“You two are being weird” Ron said, glaring at them suspiciously.

“When are they not being weird?” Draco says with a dramatic sigh. He’s lying on the bottom bunk of one of the camp-beds. He’s decked out in full Bulgarian regalia and looking pretty mardy about it.

“Those are proper galleons as well” Harry said, proudly ignoring his two male best friends “Not that fake Leprechaun shite”

“Aw, what” Ron said, deflated “That’s not real?”

“Nah” Harry said shrugging “But the ones I gave you are”

“What are you going to do with them?” Hermione asked.

“Save them for something special” Harry said.

“Yeah” Ron said with a sigh “I’ll be boring and fiscally responsible or whatever”

“Percy would be so proud” Draco intoned mockingly.

Ron groaned. Percy had been practically unbearable all summer. When Draco had joined them earlier, they’d spent a good half-an-hour re-enacting some of his greatest moments of prattish superiority. Fred and George had delighted in helping out. Ron thought that if they weren’t so bloody good at inventing, the twins might have a promising career in the theatre.

“How has your dad not noticed you’ve disappeared yet?” Hermione asked incredulously, flopping exasperatedly down on Draco’s bed and making the blonde let out an ‘oof’ at the sudden jolt. Ron couldn’t help noticing the way Hermione looked in the warm lamp light. Brown skin and hair dancing golden.

He blushed and shook himself out of it. Merlin he could be such a _girl. _Not that he’d ever let Ginny hear him say something like that.

Draco groaned dramatically. Ron thought that most of his friends were pretty dramatic. It could be exhausting being the only one out of them that didn’t react to minor obstacles as if they were life-changing events. It was also slightly worrying that the only friend he found serenity with was Luna. That kind of fact could shake a boy’s sanity.

“He probably has” Draco said with disappointment “There’s meant to be this big party over with the Romanians that all the bigwigs are going to. It’s probably more of a wake now, but dad’ll expect me there”

Draco had followed them to their tent in the after-game commotion, but he’d been gone for a few hours now. Knowing Lucius Malfoy he already had gold-leaf adorned missing posters hung up.

“I’m off then” Draco said, getting up and pouting.

Harry frowned “Wish you could just stay with us”

Draco smiled at Harry with a pleased expression “I know. I’m the best”

Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. “Ron’s my favourite”

“One finds one is _everyone’s_ favourite” Ron said in an RP accent.

“One finds she disagrees” Hermione said in the same kind of voice.

“One will miss these jaunts” Draco joined in “But one really must be going”

“See” Harry said grinning “It doesn’t work for you because that is literally just how you always sound”

“Oh shut up” Draco scowled, throwing one of the cat-smelling pillows at Harry’s laughing face. “Prat”

As Draco left they all yelled after him.

“One shall miss you” Ron cried.

“Hope your dad’s not too mad” Hermione said with genuine concern.

“We shall meet again my love” Harry cried with mocking sincerity.

They all three grinned at each other, pleased with their obvious hilarity. Harry and Ron came over to flop down beside Hermione on the bottom bunk.

Hermione grunted as Harry shifted her feet up and then back down onto his lap. Ron did the same with her head. Hermione put up with this position for exactly one second before swivelling up and sitting between them.

“I’m not a rag-doll” She huffed, flushing.

“Yes, yes” Ron said, rolling his eyes “You’re a powerful independent witch”

“I _am_ a powerful independent witch” Hermione said indignantly.

“Yeah” Harry agreed “But we don’t need you and Ginny going on about it _all_ the time”

Things had always been easy between the three of them. They each brought something to the table that the other lacked or struggled with. Every conversation was a gentle tide of push and pull, comfort and challenge. Best of all it was always fun to sped time together.

In first year, after Ron had decided he was actually pretty decent, Ron had worried if Draco would ever be able to fit into that dynamic without ruining it. Harry had seemed so reticent to include him at first, despite it being _him_ who’s befriended him first. But Draco brought his own perspective on the wizarding world, and his own form of sarcastic humour as well. Draco didn’t complete them because they were already complete. He _added._

“I hope Draco’s dad isn’t mad” Hermione said with worry, as if reading Ron’s mind.

“He’ll be fine” Harry dismissed, though Ron could detect the worry still evident beneath Harry’s bluff.

Ron glanced sideways at Harry and Hermione. They were sharing a Look. Harry and Hermione often shared Looks that Ron wasn’t privy too. Ron placed the anxiety this caused him where he placed all uncomfortable things: Deep, _deep,_ inside him, never to be looked at again. Ron Weasley had a fail-safe method of emotional survival; Just don’t do it. If you looked too closely at your emotions you might start to _have_ them.

“Ron—” Harry began, and Ron had a terrible premonition that Harry was about to talk about feelings. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you”

There you go, he thought. Why couldn’t Harry just follow the wonderful British tradition of passive aggressive silence? Bottle everything up your entire life and then when you die leave a sarcastic comment to them in your will. The British way.

“Actually” Hermione said, looking at Ron with imploring doe-eyes “We’ve been meaning to talk to you for while”

Then Ron had a horrid thought about Harry and Hermione’s Looks that he’d never had be for. He’d previously, when allowing himself a brief glimpse at his feelings, chalked it up to secret plots and schemes he wasn’t privy too. At most a super-secret nerdy book society. That seemed right up Harry and Hermione’s street.

But what if they weren’t shared looks of intrigue or self-satisfied know-it-all-ness? What if--?

But the terrible, horrible very wrong thought of Harry and Hermione in some grand secret romance made something painful and vitally important clench in Ron’s chest. It made something rage. Because-

Well Ron would rather that Harry and Hermione were plotting the assassination of Merlin himself without thinking it prudent to tell Ron than that they might—.

That they could be—.

He couldn’t even think it.

“What?” Ron said, and he could tell he’d let too many emotions bleed into his voice because Harry and Hermione shared an alarmed look of panic.

“Now don’t freak out—” Hermione began, as if approaching a spooked horse.

“It really isn’t that big of a deal” Harry said, though his face said the opposite. Ron braced himself for the truth. “You see the truth is—”

And that was when the opposite wall of the tent burst into flames.

* * *

“Come on” Ron said gruffly, helping Ginny steady herself after tripping over a tree root. The wood was dark, the only light illuminating their paths the periodic flashes of spell-light from the campsite.

“He went this way” Hermione said, a few metre’s ahead of the Weasley siblings “God what the hell is happening?”

“Why did he just run off?” Ron huffed, wiping his hand across his face and seeing in a flash of purple light that it had come away covered in soot. Ron wondered how much of the tent was left smouldering behind them.

“This is one of _those_ things” Ginny said crossly “Isn’t it Hermione? Like first year”

“What happened in your first year?” Ron said with alarm.

“Nothing happened in first year” Hermione said unconvincingly, her voice two octaves higher than usual.

“One of those mysterious _Harry_ things” Ginny went on, ignoring Hermione completely “And after it happens, we’ll all just go on acting as if it’s not weird even though it _is_”

“That’s not important now” Hermione insisted, shining her lit wand frantically ahead of her into the seemingly deserted woods.

“What happened in first year?” Ron insisted, directing it towards his sister indignantly.

“Sorry Ronnie” Ginny said cruelly “Don’t know if you’re allowed to know”

Ron knew that she was just being cruel out of fear and frustration, but it didn’t stop what she said from cutting a bit too close to the bone. He bottled it up with a bitter swallow though, staring down at the forest floor so he could follow Hermione without landing flat on his face,

After they’d all hurriedly abandoned the burning tent it had been chaos. Spells were flying, and there were people flying too. Masked wizards on brooms were attacking form the sky, raining destructive curses down on the camp. Harry had taken one gaping look at the riot and let out a devastated_ “No”_.

Then he’d turned on his feet and with ungodly speed made his way into the dusky forest. So of course, as loyal sidekicks, they had followed.

“I think I can hear him” Hermione called back. There was a soft sound of explosion from ahead.

“Yep” Ron said with a sigh “That’ll be Harry”

Sure enough when they located him he was surrounded by a tableau of— _Well._ There was no better description for it than a _sticky situation. _They were in a clearing, and Harry was standing soot-covered in the middle of it all. At least half-a-dozen ministry wizards had their wands trained on Harry. At Harry’s feet were tow immobile figures- a dark haired man and a small house elf.

“Har_ry_” Hermione said in the long-suffering voice of someone who has had to deal with Too Much.

“Explain yourself, boy” One of the men boomed. Ron vaguely recognised the voice of Amos Diggory. 

“Right” Harry said in a far too calm voice “The elf was an accident”

Which Ron just really didn’t think was the best declaration to start on? Ron loved his best friend, he _did_, but merlin could that boy be an idiot.

“You wilfully attacked a wizard?” Diggory boomed with indignation.

“It was self-defence” Harry said.

“What was he doing?”

“He was hiding in a bush”

An _idiot_. 

“So you stunned him?” Diggory said with rightful indignation.

“Can you not see who this is?” Harry said exasperatedly, gesturing at the indolent man with his foot. Ron didn’t think Harry quite had the upper hand to be acting all inconvenienced about this. “It’s Ba-“

But he was cut of by a crack of apparition. Suddenly Ron’s father and a purple faced Barty Crouch were in the clearing too. Both of their faces went through the seven stages of grief while taking in the scene before them. It was actually rather fascinating to witness.

Apart from when he remembered that based on the current situation his best friend might just be going to jail. It _was_ Harry, however. Tight spots were when he did some of his best work.

“My_ elf_” The stern man said with bafflement when he saw the small figure. Then his eyes fell to the man and his face went visibly chalk-white even in the dim light.

Great. Harry had attacked a high-up ministry officials house elf. Ron’s life shifted abruptly to include visits to Harry in Azkaban on weekends.

“How—” Barty Crouch choked out.

“This” Harry said with far too much smugness “Is Barty Crouch” After a stunned moment of silence he added with quite a lot less drama “_Jun_ior”

Dear Merlin, Ron prayed resignedly as the clearing burst into shouts, let this not be another year of absolute chaos.

But he didn’t hold out much hope.

* * *

Mum was predictably rather shocked when they returned home and told her that Harry had caused an arrest of a predominant ministry man’s supposedly dead son as he tried to cast the mark of a supposedly dead dark leader.

As any mother would be.

She also spent a few frantic minutes inspecting all of her children, which had naturally come to include Ron and Hermione, for injuries. As if perhaps one of them was casually hiding a lost limb from her.

“Dark wizard attacks” She scolded. It wasn’t scolding directed at any of them, but instead just a general scold of the universe. Mum was the type of formidable women that could make even the universe cower in the face of one of her scolding’s “At a quidditch match. What on merlin’s green earth?” She was currently moving Ginny’s face from side to side, as if checking she still had all features intact “Arthur” She demanded shrilly “What has the ministry got to say?”

“I’m not sure, Molly dear” Dad said tiredly. He had been up for hours at that point, sorting out both the mess of the air-borne attacks and the fall-out of Harry’s revelation. “I’m going to have to head in, soon”

“But it’s a Sunday” Mum said, now turning her full focus on her husband.

“Yes” Dad said with uncharacteristic snappishness “And the wizarding world has just had it’s first dark attack in over a decade”

Fred and Ron shared a look of worry. Dad only ever snapped at their mother in the direst of situations.

Molly looked taken aback “They don’t know it was—” She cut herself of and then in an exaggerated whisper said “_Him”_

Ron glanced at Harry with worry. Dad sighed and shook his head “You’re right of course but—”

“It was his followers” Harry said with certainty.

Dad looked at him with furrowed brows “Harry, you can’t know that”

“Yes Harry” Hermione said in an odd pointed tone “You _can’t”_

“I’ll have to go in too” Percy said, his usually pompous tone significantly dulled “Help out Mr Crouch with….” He winced visibly “Everything”

Ron had almost expected Percy to throttle Harry for ruining the sparkly clean image of his boss, before he’d realised that was stupid. Percy believed in rules above all else; He was upset because his idol had broken them, _not _because Harry had helped in revealing it.

“Well there’s no point in the rest of you worrying” Mum said with bluster “Off to bed. You all need your rest”

It didn’t matter that the sun was only now coming up, they all diligently followed mum into the house and off up to bed. Ron’s last thought before his head hit the pillow and he drifted off into sleep was of his interrupted talk with Harry and Hermione.

_“You see the truth is—” _

The truth is what? He thought desperately, but the worry was soon overlapped by the rushing tide of sleep.

* * *

A dreary London had only just begun to dissolve into green fields and pig pens when Draco broached the elephant in the train carriage.

“So…” He said, elongating the vowel awkwardly “Where did you leave the terrifying twins?”

Ron huffs “I buried their bodies in a place no one will ever think to look” He says in a deadpan tone “It’s over Draco. Mwah ha ha”

Draco gave him the look you give all sane people when they’ve done categorically insane thinks. “Right”

Silence reigned blissfully for a few moments until it was deposed by the violent anarchist hitherto known as Draco Malfoy.

“Because actually what it seemed like on the platform was that you were standing about 7 feet apart from them with Percy” He said “Which set off my alarm bells immediately because I have_ never_ seen you willingly interact with Percy”

Ron just grunted.

“And then when you spotted me you grabbed my hand and dragged us into here without waiting for them” He continued delicately “And also I’m pretty sure you attempted to cast a confundus charm on them” He winced “I say attempt because I’m pretty sure you accidentally hit an unsuspecting sixth year. Or possibly that’s just the poor blokes face”

Ron did react slightly to this. His face flushed a shade of orange to make the Chudley Cannons proud.

“So what I’m really asking right now…” Draco finished cautiously “Is what’s got your knickers in a twist and what has it got to do with our misfit other halves?”

If it had been any other occasion Ron would have been split between insisting that Hermione was not is other half or teasing Draco for referring to Harry as such. Currently however he was split between those two options and a third, far more pressing mode of operation: continuing his sulk.

“I’m just” Ron said and then promptly did not finish his sentence.

Draco sighed dramatically and crossed his legs primly. He leaned forward and adopted a manner one could only describe as ‘child psychologist’. “Ronald. Dearest friend. I am not having my fourth year ruined by your snit” He screwed up his face “Furthermore I am not having my _welcome feast_ ruined by it because frankly mother’s had me in Paris half the summer and I’ve dad rather more escargot and frogs legs then any Brit’s stomach can stand” 

Ron had a stomach of lead that could probably withstand a nuclear accident but even his digestive system winced in sympathy. There was only so long you could go as an Englishman, he hypothesised, before good ol’ bangers and mash became a necessary tool of survival.

Ron huffed one final time to emphasise that he had not entirely stopped having a paddy-fit. Draco rolled his eyes.

“It’s just” He stopped again, then started abruptly. “Well you _know. _Have the time I can’t understand whatever conversation we’re having because there’s always two layers; the bit that you and me are privy too and Harry and Hermione’s special brand of Chinese whispers”

Draco looked uneasy. He was British and exceedingly posh and also an only child and that was a combination that led to an iron inclination to never acknowledge difficult situations ever, _at all_, in any circumstances. Ron, however, had lived with at least 7 other people in close proximity his entire life and knew that periodic airing outs were needed to stave off homicide. Also, he was royally _miffed._

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Ron prompted “What is it that they won’t tell us? I thought they were going to finally come clean at the world cup but, well—”

He cut off and waved his hand emphatically as if to encompass both ‘dark attack’ and ‘ministry scandal’. Draco winced again, probably because it was widely believed that his dad had somehow been involved.

“Why’s it got you bothered _now_?” Draco asked uncomfortably “It’s been the norm for the last three years”

_Because now I’m worried its less secret MI5 agents and more romantic dinners_, Ron thought.

What he said was “Because stuff like this can only go on so long” He gave another huff and went back to staring out the window.

Draco watched him unhappily for a few more moments “You’re one of my best friends, Ron” He said, which was honestly more emotion than Ron had been expecting “But I’m not ruining my train journey with your sulk. Come find us when you’ve gotten over it”

Then he stood up and began to walk out of the carriage. He paused at the door.

“Whatever it is” He said softly “They will tell us. Eventually”

Ron rolled his eyes “How certain can you be of that?”

Draco just shrugged “It’s just hope. Which is almost as good as certainty”

“Bullshit” Ron grumbled.

Draco gave him a rueful smile “Well it is if we pretend it is”

* * *

Being the youngest boy of six was a difficult burden to bear. Being the youngest boy of six and not eve getting the condolence of being the actual youngest was just cruelty.

Ron had spent his entire life fighting for attention. Molly and Arthur spent his entire life battling to have enough money to feed seven, let alone enough attention to split equally seven ways. His mum loved them all equally, but time and energy was something she was poor in too. She had to put limited resources where it was needed; the careers of her eldest, Percy’s ego, the constant battle to keep Fred and George’s damage count low. Ron and Ginny had largely been left to fend for themselves. The babies. Ron and Ginny had been perpetually relegated into the ‘pick up and carry on hip from pace to place’ portion of Molly’s brain.

Ginny was naturally independent to a fault; she appreciated the air to breathe that was given in Molly’s absent-minded dismissal. If Molly labelled her ‘nothing to worry about’ then Ginny had far more space to go about doing things that Molly would definitely worry about if only she knew.

Ron was different. He’d always been sensitive. Most people saw him as a thought-less person, but this wasn’t true. Ron thought about everything, all the time, in excruciating detail. He thought things to their death.

And you couldn’t be the little sibling of five brilliant brothers without thinking a lot about what must have gone so wrong with you.

Bill was perfect in every conceivable way: head boy and twelve newts to boot and already making his way up the career ladder. Charlie, the Quidditch prodigy, enigmatic and an enigma in his daring foreign job. Percy the burgeoning Minister for Magic since age three. Fred and George had made their first invention at seven. Granted it promptly exploded three hours later but _still._

Ron’s greatest quality, as universally decided by everyone who met him, was his skill at chess.

He couldn’t help thinking, despite being a generally cheerful person, with that small but rather loud black and bitter art of his soul if---

Well. What if his mum had paid him the kind of attention she paid his brothers? Would he be a prodigy too? 

Or would he still be just Ron? The mediocre brother.

And the thing about having small but loud parts of you that were bitter was that they grew. They got bigger and louder until eventually all you were was a bitter screaming thing begging the world to _see _you.

It’s a marvellous wonder that a human being can be a generally happy person despite, under it all, not really being that at all.

Yeah. Ron thinks about things a lot more than is probably healthy.

* * *

It’s not that Ron gives Harry and Hermione the silent treatment because that would be far too much energy to expend on people you see constantly and also generally quite like. It was just that he stopped giving them so much.

He didn’t give them the silent treatment. He just turned the volume down. And also, because he was emotionally intelligent but certainly not emotionally mature, he made a pointed effort to be as normal and full volume as possible with everyone who wasn’t them.

By breakfast on their first day of classes they had definitely noticed. They kept exchanging worried glances. It only added fuel to Ron’s indignant flame. Ron had an inwardly spiteful animated conversation with Seamus and Dean about the Triwizard tournament that had been announced last night.

“Wish I could enter” Ron said wistfully, because one thousand galleons was a lot of Brand New Things and getting things new was a rare occurrence in Ron’s life. “It doesn’t seem hard”

Harry does an odd full body spasm and almost knocks over a jug of pumpkin juice. Hermione flushes darkly and tells him “Ronald people have d_ied_” and Ron snaps back “Not in _cen_turies Hermione” and then Hermione looks at Harry with intense worry and Ron doesn’t know where all the tension is coming from but the fact that he doesn’t know causes resentment to bubble in his chest.

And now his breakfast has become one angry run-on sentence.

Thankfully they had DADA with the Ravenclaws that year and so when class came about, he hurriedly slid into a desk with Draco and Harry and Hermione took the spot behind them.

There was a general buzz of energy going around the room. The new DADA professor had not been at the welcome feast last night. Plus, the whole class timetable had apparently had to be hastily rearranged.

“The Ravenclaw current theory is that they had to find a new professor last minute” Draco told him idly, craning his neck surreptitiously to watch the door but also to not seem too eager “It’s the only logical explanation”

Hermione leaned forward to give her two-sickles but was interrupted by the slam of the door against the wall.

A stack of books with limbs walked through the doorway, spelling its way clear. The stack was dumped unceremoniously on the desk to reveal a familiar face. Their group gaped at the young women. The rest of the class gaped at the teetering stack of books which, against all odds, was remaining upwards.

“Wotcher” Tonks said, bubble-gum hair vibrant in the otherwise drab classroom “Sorry for being late. Wasn’t really planning on being here”

She grinned ruefully at the group. “You look like an alright bunch- oh, Harry” She cut herself off and smiled at the gaping boy. The class was used to most new teachers treating Harry a little differently, but Ron knew that for Tonks it wasn’t due to his fame but because of their friendship. Harry had been owling Tonks since second year though Ron couldn’t for the life of him remember how they knew each other.

Ron had known Tonks for years. Mainly as the vibrant shadow that hovered behind Charlie in summers and tripped over mum’s shoes stand constantly. He remembered vividly the time mum had tried to teach Tonks how to knit. To say the results had been disastrous would be an understatement. Charlie had nearly died laughing.

“But—” Harry sputtered “I thought Moody was taking us this year?”

Ron hadn’t known that. The reminder of yet another thing Harry hadn’t thought it important to tell Ron twisted the knife in even further.

Tonks scrunched her nose at him, her hair darkening a shade or two to indigo. “Yeah that was the plan” She sighed “Unfortunately mad-eye decided he isn’t going to retire this year, actually, which is all well and good except he decided this, like, two days ago and so the compromise for Dumbles- I mean Professor Dumbledore” Tonks’ cheeks went as bubble-gum pink as her usual hair “Well, I got sent”

“How old are you even?” A dubious Ravenclaw demanded.

Tonks didn’t seem offended, just shrugged magnanimously “I qualified as an Auror two years ago. Been under Mad-eyes tutelage that whole time”

“What do we call you?” Seamus asked jovially.

“Oh, god yeah” Tonks laughed “Look at me. Consummate professional, I am. I’m Tonks” She flicked her wand at the blackboard and her name appeared there in chalk “You can just go ahead and call me Tonks”

Despite himself Ron turned on automatic to share a grin with Harry. This was going to be a fun year.

Then he realised what he was doing and dropped his smile abruptly. He turned back to the front, mood dampened again.

* * *

Falling out but not _really_ falling out with Harry and Hermione was difficult because Draco was too practical to tread the line.

He didn’t split his time between a sulking Ron and a worried Harry and Hermione. He rolled his eyes and told Ron to get over it and stop messing up the ‘dynamic’ and then he left to talk about some muggle band with Luna. The Buzzdicks or something.

This meant that when Ron wanted to go off and pointedly sulk somewhere away from Harry and Hermione, he didn’t have many options. There was Neville, except that Neville avoided conflict just as much as Draco. Not out of Draco’s general annoyance at emotions but because he was desperate to be seen as utterly neutral and didn’t want to fathom the notion of taking a side. This meant that he equally avoided all of them outside of meals and class. Ron suspected he was spending a lot of time talking anxiously to his plants in the greenhouse.

He spent some time with Seamus and Dean, but they were so insular that it was hard to spend a prolonged amount of time with them before developing a complex or a migraine.

Which left his family. He supposed there was one upside to having multiple members of your family at school with you. It’s just there were so many, many downsides it was hard to remember anything else.

He tried to spend time with Ginny before he abruptly remembered that Ginny was the devil. Plus, she spent half her time mooning over Lovegood so it was futile anyway.

The surprise of this all was how willing Fred and George were to allow Ron to hang around them. Of course, there was a caveat. Ron became guinea pig numero uno.

“Please bring pillows next time” Ron said with a groan, getting up from the floor for the tenth time.

“Sorry, sorry” Fred said distractedly, scribbling down observations on a long scroll of parchment.

“I think that went better” George said cheerily. Ron thought that was probably because George no longer had to be periodically blasted to the floor.

“I better no get brain damage from this” Ron grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

“You know the deal” George said smugly.

“Brain damage equals life-time discount” Fred finished.

“And being family doesn’t already mean that?” Ron asked wryly.

“Merlin no” Fred grinned, getting up to do the test all over again “The family price is a ten percent _increase_”

“Only fair” George smirked, raising his wand.

Ron sighed and braced himself.

* * *

A side effect of befriending Harry Potter at an impressionable age was that you became naturally inclined to eavesdropping. Every time you heard your name around a corner or through library stacks you became conditioned to pause and listen instead of to confront.

Harry seemed to have a clear philosophy; Whatever people were saying when they thought you couldn’t hear, that’s what you wanted to know.

So when Ron came into the common room late from helping Fred and George (he’d been stuck with the clean-up. There were always a lot of soot marks) and heard his name, he paused. He was only a few steps into the room, still hidden in the shadows. The only light in the room was coming from the dying fire. Two figures were partially lit, sitting in opposite armchairs.

“—telling you, Ron knows—”

“He doesn’t know—”

“Alright he suspects. It’s just as bad”

“I don’t see why we don’t just tell him”

“We tried—"

“Ages ago. And it was interrupted, remember”

“As if I could forget Hermione”

Hermione, and he had known it was her even before Harry had said her name, sighed “Yeah, sorry. I know you’ve been stuck on that”

“I just don’t understand why it still happened this time. It shouldn’t have gone the same way”

“From what you’ve said it didn’t”

“Close enough to be fucking scary, though” Harry snarked.

“You can’t control the whole world. Some people are just going to go about being neo-Nazis whatever you do” Hermione said sympathetically. Ron didn’t know what neo-Nazis were, but of Hermione could but that much vehemence into the words he guessed they were bad.

“S’pose we’re lucky death eaters only hate us for our blood not our skin” Harrys says bitterly.

Hermione giggles darkly “Yes. Terribly _luc_ky”

They were silent for a stretch and Ron weighed up the pros and cons of sneaking off to bed without them noticing. But he knew that it wasn’t what the Harry J Potter school of eavesdropping would have him do, so he stayed still.

“We should tell Ron soon” Harry said quietly.

“Maybe we should have told him a while ago” Hermione said critically.

Harry sighed “Maybe” He stood up “I’m going to bed, you?”

“I suppose sleep is supposed to be productive” Hermione sighed, getting up slowly.

Ron was disproportionally happy when he watched them separate off to bed without anything close to a loving embrace. Maybe that shouldn’t be what Ron focused on, but it was what made his chest feel funny all the same.

It was only later on while he tried to sleep that the rest of the conversation began to nag at him.

* * *

“How do you think Durmstrang will get here?” Draco said with uncharacteristic excitement at breakfast the Monday before the other schools were set to arrive.

“Boat” Harry replied absently, and then winced “Ow, Hermione what was that—”

“You can’t know that Harry” She said primly “Maybe they’ll fly”

“Too cold to fly” Draco pointed out, looking thoughtful.

“Does it matter?” Neville asked with honest curiosity.

Draco shrugged “Nice to see how my life could have gone”

Ron snorted out pumpkin juice “You were meat to go to Durmstrang? Seriously?”

“Father wanted me to go there” Draco said, the same blue tone entering his voice whenever he talked about his father.

“Darker teaching” Harry said with a wince.

“You’ve got it in one Potter” Draco said drily.

“Ah, the joy of parents” Hermione sighed. Then she seemed to remember that their group contained Harry and Neville and she abruptly changed course.

It turned out Harry was right about the boat. Ron still thought that the Beauxbaton entrance was cooler.

“Why are they all so beautiful?” Hermione muttered under her breathe, eyes wide as she watched the Beauxbatons students stream past into the entrance hall, huddled together as if it was mid-winter rather than a balmy autumn night “Is it like, a requirement for their education?”

“I think it’s an optical illusion” Ginny said, squinting. “Like with the uniforms or whatever”

“We have uniforms and it doesn’t mean that we all look that good” Neville pointed out.

Luna smiled brightly “Ginny does” and Ginny blushed profusely.

Ron rolled his eyes and shared an exasperated look with Hermione before remembering that he was mad at her.

“Maybe one of their classes is about intense beauty regimes” Harry said ponderously.

“Let’s hope they also got taught defensive magic too” Ginny said shrewdly.

“Beauty is a sort of defence” Luna said sagely.

“Not much use against dragons though” Harry muttered under his breathe, eyes flicking to the great lake. Ron was the only one close enough to hear.

“What?” He asked.

Harry looked at him, eyes wide. Harry had a habit of accidentally looking like a mad philosopher- his constantly messy crown of dark curls means that any time he looks slightly surprised he also looks intensely mad.

“What? Oh. Nothing. I didn’t say anything” He said hurriedly, tripping over his words.

“Right” Ron said disbelievingly, rolling his eyes “Whatever”

Then a mast broke the surface of the black lake and a magnificently terrifying boat began to emerge. Over in the Ravenclaw section Draco let out a happy whoop of awe.

* * *

“Cedric Diggory” Dumbledore called out warmly, on the night of Halloween. The Hufflepuffs burst into raucous applause and the rest of the hall followed sedately behind.

Ron sighed and turned back around on the bench, so he wasn’t facing the front anymore “Wish it had been Angelina”

“Same” Ginny sad “A girl champion would be cool”

“Fleur’s a girl” Harry pointed out and Ginny wrinkled up her nose “Fleur seems cool” Harry insisted at her face.

“She’s from Beauxbatons” Ginny scowled.

“And Diggory’s a Hufflepuff” Ron bemoaned. He’d decided to cool his grumpiness for the day of All Hallows Eve. It didn’t seem kind to make passive aggressive remarks to your best friend on the anniversary of their parents’ death. Ron could be sensitive, despite everything which said contrary.

“This isn’t a house competition” Hermione scolded.

“Yeah but I’d care way more if it was a Gryffindor”

Harry shuddered and made an odd face “I think we should all be very glad we got the Hogwarts champion we did”

“Yeah” Hermione said drily “Just think if we were older, we might have had to watch Harry blunder his way through the competition”

They all shivered. Harry frowned slightly in insult.

“Merlin” Ron whimpered “Now _that _would be a nightmare”

* * *

Tonks’ lessons were always interesting. Either because she’s actually a pretty fun teacher or because she was a terrible adult.

The fourth year DADA class had seen Tonks accidentally start and hastily put out four fires. It was only the first week of November.

She also tended to accidentally go off on tangents about something completely unrelated to the lesson plan. It was obvious that she adored Defence and even more obvious that she adored it in a practical and theoretical sense and academically. Tonks wanted to talk about the far-reaching implications of one tiny piece of defensive magical theory and then spend the lesson experimenting. She did not seem as happy to spend the lesson teaching them basics that she already knew back to front, even if they didn’t.

Tonks’ ability to completely throw the lesson plan and syllabus out of the window on a whim was perfectly represented in what happened when Fleur Delacour knocked on the door a few minutes into their lesson one day in November.

“Excusez-moi? Professeur Tonks?” Fleur inquired politely, flicking her sheet of perfect silver hair over her shoulder “Are you free?”

Ron had never seen a room go so quiet before. Well. Ron had never seen the boys in a room go so quiet before. They all gaped at Fleur who was, undeniably, the most perfect woman Ron had ever seen.

“Wotcher” Tonks said, seemingly on reflex “What’s up?” She paused, scrunching her nose up. Her hair shifted into a black French bob “Puis-je aider?” she said in a tragically midlands accent.

Fleur’s eyes lit up, seemingly oblivious to the dozen saucer-eyes trained directly on her “You speak French?”

“Terrible French” Tonks shrugged. She glanced at the class, seemingly remembering that she was meant to be teaching. Fleur noticed them too.

“I only meant to ask, you see, in Beuaxbatons we do not do this spell? Er, I think it is the Surgito spell?”

“Oh! Yes, that makes sense” Tonks beckoned Fleur forward into the room “Is this for your exploratory essay?”

“Oui” Fleur said, dumping a stack of papers on Tonks’ desk “I’m doing it on the ancillary nature of counter-curses”

“Counter-curses _are_ fourth year. I suppose” Tonks said absently, gesturing to them. Then she picked a paper from Fleurs stack and began to scan it.

Hermione, who as usual had them seated at the front of the class, couldn’t refrain from exclaiming “Oh how interesting! In a philosophical or functional capacity?”

Fleur smiled at her charmingly “I am focused on the spell-making theory. Partially philosophical and functional, also. I am very interested in the ontological approach to spell-making”

“Have you read Kant’s essays on that?” Tonks said animatedly, looking up from Fleur’s pages.

Which was how Fleur Delacour became a more-often-than-not fixture in their defence classes, studying counter-curses as they did and more often than not derailing the lesson by getting into lengthy debates with Hermione.

Ron didn’t really understand what they were debating as it mostly appeared to include them loudly agreeing with each other in argumentative tones of voices.

Most of the boys begin to spend defence lessons suspiciously mute.

* * *

Without the usual excitement of the beginning of the Quidditch season, November was set to be a relaxed month. By the third day of the month, however, this changed. Drastically.

“Sirius said he had a good birthday” Harry said, looking up from the letter which Hedwig had just delivered to the window of Gryffindor tower. It was a Thursday and the three of them were crowded into a comfortable corner of the common room, legs up on each other’s laps, hastily doing their homework due in on Friday. Well. Hermione was simply there to make sure they did their homework, and then correct it when they inevitably fucked up.

Harry passed the letter to Hermione, who skimmed it with a chuckle and passed it to Ron. He too skimmed over Sirius’ general updates and mother hen-ing of Harry, then laughed out loud when he read Sirius’ description of his 34th birthday.

_I’m old Harry! Prepare my casket, I can feel death creeping up any day now. This old dog has no new tricks to learn, just despair and folly. Oh, woe is me!_

_Remus is reading over my shoulder. He just smacked me on the shoulder and told me to stop being a drama queen. This is abuse of the elderly! He has so many years ahead of him, that young spry thing. _

“Wait. Is Remus younger than Sirius?” Ron asked, looking up with a grin.

“Yeah. By only like four months” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

_Anyway, Remus is treating me well. He woke me up with some truly dreadful pancakes (another smack!) and a lot of dusty old books which I absolutely did not squeal over. I am a manly man into manly things like brooms and- oh never mind I can’t remember anything else manly. Then we spent the day in various record shops and cafés. Just like the good old days. Wish your dad had been with us again. _

_Anyway, thanks for the gift kiddo. Tell Ron that Remus loved the cartoon. Says he has a real knack for it. _

_All my old age pensioner love (and Remus’),_

_Padfoot_

“He seems to be doing well” Ron noted, passing the parchment back to Harry who glanced at it again with a smile.

“Yeah” He said “And he’s right about your cartoon. I laughed for a good twenty minutes”

Ron had scribbled a short cartoon entitled “The adventures of Padfoot and Professor Puppy” Featuring a puppy sized werewolf Remus to send Sirius for his birthday.

“It was nothing” Ron said with a blush “I’m no good at drawing”

“It wasn’t too bad. But it was hilarious” Harry insisted.

“Mayve you should get Dean to some stuff with you” Hermone suggested “You know he’s always scribbling”

“Then it could go in the Oracle” Harry said excitedly.

“In between the extensive tournament reporting” Hermione sighed “It hasn’t even properly begun yet”

“Well I suppose there’s no quidditch” Ron shrugged.

“And no attack. Yet” Harry said darkly. Hermione gave him a worried look.

Ron frowned “I don’t know why you’re so convinced somethings going to happen”

Harry and Hermione shared a look. Ron felt his blood begin to simmer. “It’s Nothing” Harry dismissed, glancing down at his potions essay shiftily.

“There’s something” Ron insisted. Both of them stayed conspicuously silent, avoiding even looking at him. He huffed. “I suppose this is another bloody thing you won’t tell me then?”

“Ron-” Hermione exclaimed, looking at him with injured eyes. He cut her off.

“I heard you talking in the common room. I know there’s something you want to tell me. Go on then/ unless you’ve changed your mind?” Ron knew he was being grumpy; he couldn’t help it.

Harry winced. “Not here-”

“How important can it be?” Ron exclaimed with disbelief. He gestured at the mostly deserted room “There’s no one here”

“We can’t tell you in front of _anyone” _Hermione insisted, looking about frantically as if someone might hear even though they hadn’t said a thing.

Ron frowned. This didn’t seem to be how you’d act of you were about to announce a relationship. “This is serious, isn’t it?” He said quietly.

Harry and Hermione exchanged another loaded look. Ron saw a decision pass between them, their faces both resolving, then Hermione lent forward and began packing her books from the coffee table.

“Come on” Harry said, stuffing his essay into his bag without delicacy. “Let’s go somewhere quieter”

“It’s passed curfew” Ron said, though he too began to pack his things.

“That doesn’t matter” Hermione said seriously. That was when Ron decided to just shut up and led them lead the conversation. If Hermione was that blasé about rule-breaking, it had to be serious.

Ron followed is companions as they marched out of the common room and down the seventh-floor corridor. Both of their shoulders were tense.

Hermione stopped at the door of an abandoned classroom “I suppose this would be poetic” She said, smiling tightly ta Harry. She looked at Ron “This was where Harry told me”

“You locked me in here with a colloportus and forced me to tell you under duress” Harry said drily.

“I was twelve. How much duress were you really under?” Hermione joked, shifting three chairs out from under dusty tables and into the middle of the room.

“A normal twelve-year-old? Not much. But you?”

Ron shivered. “He’s right ‘Mione. You were always terrifyingly competent”

“I’ll take that as a compliment” Hermione said with a sniff.

A silence descended upon them. It wasn’t awkward- it was heavy.

“I don’t know how to begin” Harry said softly.

“How did you tell Hermione?” Ron asked, all the cruel accusation gone from his voice.

Harry snorted “She bombarded me with questions”

“Of course” Ron said I commiseration.

“Oi. This isn’t a Hermione Granger support group you know” Hermione huffed.

“What is it then?” Ron said, some of the lightness vanished. “Because I’ve had a million theories” He blushed. “I even. I mean. I thought maybe you two were…” He gestured between them, not finishing his sentence.

They both looked at him horrified, then at each other with comic disgust “Harry?” Hermione exclaimed with disbelief “In what world?”

“Neither of them” Harry said with a shudder “Hermione is like a sister to me. That’s like you saying you were dating Ginny”

Ron made a face at the thought. Inside his chest was filled with airy light.

“Well at least it isn’t that” He said with relief. Hermione gave him a soft smile and he blushed, though he couldn’t say why.

“It’s” Harry made a face “It would be a lot easier if that were the case”

Hermione sighed “Honestly. Just rip the plaster off” She looked at Ron dead on “Harry is a time-traveller.”

Ron didn’t say anything. A silence took over the classroom that seemed unbreachable. His brain decided not to process that information. Instead it just came to a complete standstill.

“He’s—” Ron croaked “A what?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I’ve lived this before. Sort of. Not this, specifically. I, uh, wasn’t time travelling last time”

Hermione rolled her eyes “You’re terrible at this” She said with disbelief “Harry died at the end of our seventh year, then he came back. To the first day of our first year. He’s living it all again”

“You died?” Ron exclaimed, staring at his best friend in horror. The idea f not having Harry around, as odd and nonsensical as he could be, was incomprehensible. Harry was like Hogwarts itself. Unable to not exist. “You _came back? _From where?_”_

Harry looked uncomfortable “I was given a choice. I thought I was choosing to go back to my own time, but instead I came here. Back to first year, and you lot”

“We’ve been trying to make things better” Hermione said softly.

“Hermione only found out because she wouldn’t let it go” Harry shrugged.

“And because you couldn’t keep a secret to save your life”

“Oi. I’ve kept it a secret, haven’t I?” Harry said, insulted,

Hermione rolls her eyes “Only because no one’s crazy enough to look at the confusion of Harry Potter and conclude ‘time travel’ as a logical solution”

Ron laughed, shoulders relaxing slightly at the familiar banter of his closest friends. “She has a point, mate”

Harry pouted, then let out a long sigh “It’s been hard. I’ve changed a lot. But- the big things. People I lost. People I might lose—I can’t have it happen again. I’m trying to save people”

Ron frowned in thought “So Voldemort cane back for you?” 

Harry nodded “End of this year, actually. You remember that Barty Crouch Jr.?”

“Course’” Ron nodded, wincing. “How could I forget?”

“Well he’s a death eater, of course. But in my time, he became our defence teacher in disguise. He entered my name in the Triwizard tournament and I had to compete, then at the end of the year he sent me to Voldemort so he could be brought back”

“Harry said Cedric died” Hermione said in a fragile whisper.

“_Died?_” Ron exclaimed.

“Not this time” Harry said grimly. I’ve done everything I could, I’ll do more. He won’t die”

“But it’s a lot” Hermione, who hated to admit defeat in the face of anything at all, said with exhaustion.

“I’m sorry” Harry said, looking tortured.

Hermione straightened up, shaking her head fiercely “No. I’m happy to do it. We’re saving you”

“We’re saving everyone else. I don’t matter”

“You matter” Ron said, aghast “Harry, you _matter_. ‘Course you matter. I can’t imagine- if you die here- what would we do? “

“Go on” Harry said grimly, and, in that moment, Ron could see the much older person hiding behind his best friends’ eyes.

They let a few moments slip by in silence, a quiet funeral for something none of them quite understood. Perhaps it was the unknowable concept of childhood, lost to each of them as they resolved to fight a war no one else even knew about.

“Alright” Ron said with vigour “Tell me everything. I’m helping from now on you idiots”

* * *

_Dear Harry, _

_The whole Bertha business is finally sorted. Dumbledore and Mad-eye were defiantly not happy that we went to Albania on our own, but you know we trust you over anyone else. She’s in Mungo’s now. Has some serious damage from a wonky memory charm. _

_I know you’re frustrated we didn’t get Peter, but we will. I know we will. Sirius and I won’t rest until you’re safe from him and we’ve made him pay for what he did to James and Lily. _

_How was Halloween by the way? I forgot to ask. It’s a hard day for us all. Sirius was till gloomy up until his birthday. I think it hits him harder because of the time he missed in that awful place. He’s cheering up now. _

_Keep focused on your studies. I’ve heard from Tonks that you’re still excelling at Defence. She comes for dinner every now and then and waxes lyrical about you and some French exchange student. Hwo is the competition by the way? _

_Keep save. We love you. _

_Moony _

_P.s. I’ve sent you extra socks and a warm jumper (sorry. Pads has taken up crochet). I heard from some centaurs that it’s meant to be a bloody cold winter._

* * *

“What do you tell them?” Ron asked, taking a bite of a sausage sandwich as he read over Harry’s shoulder.

“I say I have a special connection with you-know-who because of this” Harry said softly, tapping his scar.

“And they believe you” Ron said sceptically.

“It was true in the other world” Harry said with a shrug. “Plus I just thing they want to believe it, you know?”

Ron nodded contemplatively. It was definitely odd to find out bits and pieces of the ‘other world’ as Harry called it. The past few days had been exhaustive on Ron’s cognitive processing.

“How did you stop it?” Ron asked, gesturing lightly at his own forehead”

“Occlumency” Harry said, sighing.

“You know occlumency?” Ron exclaimed, almost dropping his sandwich. “That is so cool!”

Harry laughed, shrugging “I was terrible at it. Never tried. But when I woke up here, I put a lot of effort into actually practising what I was taught. I don’t need anyone seeing inside my head”

“Who taught you? Dumbledore?”

“Nah” Harry said with a wince “Snape, actually. It was awful”

“Merlin I can imagine” Ron said, shuddering. He chewed his last bite of bread, ketchup and sausage thoughtfully. “You ‘fink you cou’d teach me?” He said through his mouthful.

Harry laughed at him, shoving his shoulder. “I mean yeah if you want. I’ve taught Hermione some basics, but she can’t stand it. If you promise to keep your mouth closed when you eat”

Ron swallowed loudly “Mouth closed, and mind shut off. Perfect”

Harry just rolled his eyes and grinned brightly at Ron “I missed you when you were sulking”

“Don’t say sulking” Ron cried.

“That’s what Draco called it” Harry sing-songed. Ron looked over at the Ravenclaw table and glared at the back of the blondes’ head.

“Yeah, yeah” He leaned over to grab more food from Harry’s side of the table, mumbling as he did so “I guess I missed you too, weirdo”

* * *

“It’s so weird being in the stands” Harry muttered on the day of the first task, so only Ron and Hermione could here. Hermione smirked at him and Ron rolled his eyes.

“Welcome to the peasants view” He joked.

Draco leaned around Neville “Who’s up first, then?”

“Can’t believe its dragons” Said Neville with a shudder.

They’d been told that morning at breakfast what the first task would be, after the champions and been led away that was.

“Hm” Harry said, scrunching his face up in memory “Krum first maybe. Or Fleur?”

“So, two options out of the three” Draco laughed, rolling his eyes. “very helpful Potter”

Ginny leant down. Her and Luna were sat on the bench above them, with Dean and Seamus rounding out their little group. Fred, George and Lee were at the front of the stands waving about percussion rattles and riling up bets off students and teachers alike.

Ginny was watching bemusedly “You know I’ve always thought that the gambling culture at Hogwarts was slightly worrying”

“Oh shush” Ron Laughed “If Fred and George weren’t at it you’d be the one doing it”

Ginny nodded her head in concession, leaning back to whisper something to Luna. Ron rolled his eyes at them good-naturedly. He wondered when the two would finally get together.

The announcer began to talk, and cheers went up in the crowd. Harry let out a whoop, grinning.

“This is way more fun than being in that bloody tent. Wanna make a wager?”

“Not with your knowledge you cheater” Ron huffed. Then he frowned “Wait a minute. The bet we made at the world cup—”

But his words were cut off by the cheer that went up in the crowd as Cedric stepped out. Ron would have believed Harry hadn’t heard him if it weren’t from the slight blush high on his cheeks.

Ron looked at him thoughtfully, bubbles of happiness and love crowding in his stomach. He decided to let it go, turning to cheer along with everyone else as Cedric was greeted by a Swedish Short-Snout.

* * *

They had all decide to stay over Christmas break in the wake of McGonagall’s Yule Ball announcement.

“This is going to be hell” Ron bemoaned, staring into the fire gloomily.

Harry slapped him jovially on the back “It’s fine. Why don’t you ask Hermione?”

Ron looked at Harry sideways, eyes full of doubt “Did we go together last time?”

Harry rolled his eyes “I’ll leave this one up in the air I think. Ask her. I promise”

Ron shifted his jaw uncomfortably “She probably has someone else to go with, right?”

Harry shook his head “You won’t know unless you ask”

Ron glared at him “Who are you taking then?”

“Luna” Harry said simply “Asked her at breakfast. She says she has an absolutely ravishing pair of fruit earrings”

Ron laughed, then frowned again “Ginny’s left out, then”

Harry shook his head “Draco asked her. We did it together so that they could both come. Neville’s going with Parvati and Dean has asked Lavender but I don’t think she’s said yes yet”

“Who’s Seamus taking?” Ron said, alarmed at how quickly his friends had moved.

“Some Hufflepuff girl in the year above”

“Seamus is taking a fifth year?” Ron yelled in disbelief. A few people looked over at him in concern “Seamus Finnegan?”

“No” Harry said sarcastically “The other Seamus we know and talk to”

“Right” Ron said with resolve “Guess I’m asking Hermione then. Where is she?”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to” Harry laughed “She’s in the library”

“Of course,” Ron rolled his eyes, blushing “and shut up. Look at you and Draco on a little double date”

Harry looked confused “What d’you mean?”

Ron rolled his eyes, getting to his feet “Never mind. You’re clueless”

He started to head to the library with the sounds of Harry’s spluttering fading in the background.

* * *

Hermione at first appeared to be alone in the library, tucked away in her favourite corner with the comfiest chairs Ron knew she loved. This wasn’t odd. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon after all. Not many other people were thinking about revision.

But as he moved across the room, he noticed another figure lingering in the stacks. He gave a small yelp of surprise and hurried over to Hermione’s side.

“Mione don’t react but Victor Krum is here” He said with excitement.

Hermione, who hadn’t noticed him arrive or sit down, looked up at him in surprise. Her hair was frazzled around her ace and Ron guessed she had been tugging at it, the way she did when she was in deep concentration. She looked around wildly at Krum, blinked owlishly at him a few times and then let out a small huff. The sight of her, frizzy hair and all, send odd shivers through his body.

“Yes. He is here rather a lot. I’m not sure what he’s doing, though”

Ron frowned, glancing at Krum. He seemed to be intently reading the blurb of a book, though Ron thought it was taking hm longer than it should be. Must be because it’s in English, he thought.

“Weird” He said dismissively “Anyway I’ve got something to ask you, Mione”

She looked at him with interest, pushing her mane of hair away from her face to give him her full attention. “Yes?”

“Would you, uh, like to go to the ball with me?” He asked sheepishly, blushing.

She blinked at him, no expression on her face. Then her cheeks started to go pink.

“I mean, you don’t have to” Ron hurried to add “I just thought maybe-“

“Yeah, alright” She said softly “Yes. I’ll go to the ball with you Ronald”

Ron let out a sigh of relief, relaxing and grinning widely “Great. We’ll have a grand time, then”

Hermione gave him a shy smile “Yes. I suppose we will”

Ron felt another blush coming on, and quickly made excuses about leaving her to study. She kept smiling at him indulgently, as if she could tell he was a bumbling mess. She definitely could.

“See ya” He mumbled, turning an about face to head out of the library. He absently noticed that Victor Krum was glaring at him, but he was hardly focused on that.

In fact he was mainly focusing on the realisation that in asking Hermione to the ball he had failed to mention that he meant as just friends. had Hermione known what he meant? She had said yes anyway. She must know. He had a horribly unnerving thought; that perhaps if it wasn’t as strictly friends, he might not really mind.

But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

* * *

Ron began his work on “The Adventures of Barry Blotter” on Christmas eve-eve, when the lazy merriment got too much even for his languid soul. Dean sat beside him on the sofa, laughing at what he wrote and creating fun sketches and cartoons to follow the storyline.

“Where are you getting this stuff from?” Dean said, chuckling, as he sketched Barry Blotter (who had curly black hair and glasses but definitely wasn’t Harry in anyway at all) hiding a baby dragon under his robes in a grand plot to sneak it to Romania. Puffs of smoke were trailing out of the collar and sleeves and singed holes appeared across the shirt. Barry’s loyal sidekicks Ermintrude and Rick were peeping out from around a corner, looking comically wide eyes with their own singe marks. It was an excellent drawing.

“Oh, you know” Ron said lightly “I have an overactive imagination”

* * *

Ron had never spent Christmas at Hogwarts before. When he’d mentioned this to Harry the chaotic boy had blinked slowly for a long moment, as if blinking away a film from his eyes, and then grinned widely.

“Oh, my Merin, I’d forgot. You know we spent our first four Christmases at Hogwarts the last time round?” He said, tugging Ron’s sleeve excitedly.

“What? Why?” Ron exclaimed. He had spent lots of time with Harry over every Christmas break. First because they had both stayed at Hermione’s in first year, then because of his almost daily visits to Grimmauld place in second and third year. But he couldn’t imagine not going away for Christmas at all.

“I didn’t have anywhere to go” Harry said simply, in that way he had of saying entirely tragic things in a casual way. “You and ‘Mione were always good to me like that”

“Bet mum wasn’t happy” Ron said, purposefully avoiding the tight feeling Harry’s words had caused in his chest.

“She never said anything. But yeah, I bet she wasn’t. We spent fifth year at Sirius’ and sixth year at the Burrow” Harry smiled wistfully “That year was brilliant”

“Is fifth year when you went to live with Sirius?” Ron asked innocently.

Harry’s mouth tightened around the edges “I never lived with Sirius. He died at the end of our fifth year”

Ron flet his jaw go slack. Despite his prompting, Harry had refused to talk about some of the vents of his past life. Especially the ones that hurt to much, Ron deducted. When he’d talked to Hermione she’d confided that Harry only ever told her the more tragic things when it was necessary. She said that he’d always remained relatively tight-lipped about his seventh year and the events presumably leading to his death. Apart from the Horcruxes, of course.

“But weren’t Remus and Sirius- I mean. They’re engaged now. What were they doing then?” Ron spluttered, finding it sort of hard to believe that Sirius and Remus were a presence that could ever not exist. Their Christmas day proposal of the last year had been retold to him from numerous sources, every single time with extra embellishments and romantic notions. Sirius and Remus were Harry’s parents, with all the necessary cringe that came from them being mushy around each other.

Harry shook his head “We never talked about it, I’m not sure. They gave me a joint Christmas gift once, though, before Sirius—” A dark cloud came over Harry’s face “Before he passed” Harry shrugged “Remus married someone else actually. Had a baby”

“You’re kidding me!” Ron exclaimed, feeling like a third-year girl being told juicy gossip.

“Yeah. I was godfather” Harry looked off into the distance thoughtfully, as if viewing his own life through one of those muggle cinema thingies “I wonder what happened to him. Poor Teddy”

“Did Remus die? What about the mum?” Ron asked, gently.

Harry nodded “Just a few hours before I did, actually. I suppose I never had time to process it before I was back here” Then Harry seemed to shake himself, clearing the cobwebs off himself “You’ll never guess who the mum was”

“Tell me” Ron said, grinning back.

“No, no” Harry laughed “You have to guess”

Which was how they spent Christmas eve morning, with Harry revealing odd bits and pieces of his life and leaving others up in the air just to tease Ron with the mystery.

* * *

By Christmas morning Ron had seen the appeal of the castle at yule time. He didn’t know if it was extra festive for the visiting schools, but the excessive Christmas festivities reminded Ron of story books. He could hardly stop smiling all day, laughing at terrible Christmas cracker jokes and Fred and George’s good-natured pranks, reminiscing with his friends, listening to teachers’ stories and stuffing himself on so much food it almost put Molly Weasley’s Christmases to shame. Almost.

They went for tea with Hagrid in the afternoon, while Hermione and many of the other girls disappeared into the fourth-year dormitory to, as they put it, ‘get ready’. Ron couldn’t imagine why this would take six hours, but he generally adopted the attitude that girls were a mystery and one that he was far to primitive and uneducated to solve.

At the start of the year shop all of the boys had bought dress robes, unbeknownst to why, and Harry had convinced Ron to put some of his World Cup winnings towards some handsome navy-blue robes. Ron had been happy to do so when a hysterically laughing Ginny had described the dress robes Molly had intended for him, later backed up by an equally diabolically laughing Harry.

“Seriously, Ron. You looked, and I quote, like your Great Aunt Muriel on a bad fashion day”

Ron and Harry spent minimal time on their hair- only attempting to get it to lay flat and then giving up when it did whatever it wanted anyway. But they did spend a raucous half-hour cheering Neville on and watching in fascination as he fastidiously did his hair.

“Oh bloody hell” Ron said, head under his four-poster “I haven’t a clue where my nice shoes are”

“Here” Neville said, looking in despair at the dusty knees of Ron’s robes “My Gran had me pack two pairs”

Ron grinned ferally, dusting his robes off with haphazard sweeps and drabbing the shoes off of Nev. “Cheers mate”

“Ever the charmer, Ronald” Draco teased. He’d snuck his way into Gryffindor tower an hour earlier and had spent the last forty minutes roundly beating Harry at Chess on Harry’s bed. Harry looked flushed though Ron didn’t have any notion as to why.

“Now there better be no funny business between you and my sister” Ron said, knocking Draco’s shoulder with his own and lazily trying to sound stern.

Draco rolled his eyes “Oh please. She’s too far gone on Lovegood for it to matter”

Ron thought he heard Seamus mutter something along the lines of “She’s not the only one too far gone—” But he wasn’t abruptly cut off by Dean’s elbow to his stomach, and Draco and Harry didn’t seem to hear anyway. Ron snorted, rolling his eyes.

With one last half-hearted finger-comb through his hair, he gave a final rally. “Come along lads. Let’s go collect our dates”

* * *

Luna had also decided to sneak into Gryffindor tower rather than stay with the Ravenclaw lot. She was the first one down the stairs, dressed in a floaty orange dress that was just on the slight side of garish. She had clementine earrings to match and her shoes were large, hob-nailed boots. Harry grinned at her widely, offering her his arm.

“You look very pretty, Luna” He said calmly, to snickers and hoots form the Fourth-year boys. Ron noticed Draco give a barely perceptible frown out of the corner of his eyes.

But then Ginny was coming down the stairs, dressed in shades of blue and grey. Draco smiled at her charmingly. “Terrifying as always, Ginevra”

Ginny laughed, to Ron’s surprise. “I’m sure you can think of a better compliment than that” She teased.

Half of the boys in the room hastened to tell her she looked pretty and Ron rolled his eyes, cutting them off with a good-natured cry of “Alright, alright!”

The rest of the girls came down after, dressed in pinks and lavenders. Parvati was dressed in a beautiful purple sari and looked surprisingly well matched on Neville’s arm. They smiled at each other awkwardly.

Finally, it was just Hermione they were waiting for. Ron frowned with worry “Is she alright?” He asked, directing his question at Lavender.

“Hair trouble” Lavender said succinctly, twirling her own honey curls around a painted finger. She had a mischievous look in her eyes.

And then—

There is a phrase often overused in romances. Heart stopped. It is both overdone and a clear appropriation of the culture of those cardiac-ly challenged. Ron’s heart didn’t stop or skip a beat. It floated. Up out of his rib cage, through his throat, then up, up into the night sky where it joined the stars, bursting into a supernova.

It wasn’t that she looked dramatically different. It was just that she looked so absolutely Hermione that it- and here was anther overused phrase- took his breath away.

Her mane of dark brown curls, more often than not messy from being shoved in practical buns and plaits, had been smoothed into neat ringlets. There were hundreds off them, falling all around her shoulders in a crown of hair. Her dress was periwinkle blue, dusting just above her knees. It was a starkly beautiful contrast to her dark skin, which seemed to glitter at her collar bones and shoulders with gold. Ron wondered if Lavender and Parvati had been allowed for just one night to attack her with make-up brushes. She’d extended her average height by a few inches with conservative, dainty heels. When she walked up to Ron she now stood at his shoulders, not his mid-chest.

Ron could see that there was a blush blooming under her brown skin. He was also aware that he was gaping like an idiot.

“You look—” He croaked out.

But Hermione cut him off, saying ruefully “Not like myself”

Ron shook his head fervently “You look like yourself. You look beautiful”

Hermione blushed fully then, smiling at him happily “You look very nice too, Ronald”

And if they hadn’t been so caught up in blushing at each other they may have noticed that none of their friends whooped or giggled at them, but instead shared happy smiles, even of those smiles were tinged with the faintest amount of exasperation.

The ball was everything promised by the professors- beautiful icicle decorations, a dazzling dance floor, grand and towering Christmas trees. The hall looked positively transformed.

It was funny to watch the champions dance awkwardly together, Victor Krum leading Katie Bell in an awkward waltz. “Bet you’re glad that isn’t you, eh mate?” Ron muttered to a slightly green looking Harry.

“Merlin. The flashbacks” He croaked.

But when the first dance ended their whole friendship group descended on the dance floor. Draco and Ginny danced elegantly. While Harry and Luna showed them up by dancing like absolute lunatics- waving their arms about and jumping around even to the slow songs. Ron led Hermione happily about the dance floor, listening to her natter on about history and inter-school camaraderie and never mentioning when she stepped on his feet. Ron hadn’t thought he would like dancing much, but he didn’t mind when it was Hermione.

By the time the night ended, it had already been placed into Ron’s archives of treasured memories. He lead Hermione to the bottom of her stairs, even though he felt silly doing it, and bid her a proper goodnight. She smiled politely and bemusedly at him the whole time, but when he was done she flung her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you for the lovely night, Ronald” She said into his ear, her hair engulfing them both. It smelled like eucalyptus and lilacs.

Then she was off up the stairs in a flounce of periwinkle skirts, leaving Ron staring after her in a daze.

“Mate” Harry said with a laugh from behind him “You are so clueless”

Which Ron thought, on the whole was a pretty hypocritical thing to say to one’s best friend when ones best friend had seen the way one acted around certain snarky blondes.

But he let it go, still dazed from eucalyptus and lilacs.

* * *

##  ** _9 Muggles Dead in Apparent Dark Attack. _ **

_On Monday evening nine muggles were found murdered across three boroughs of London, separate but identical in their injuries. Sources suggest that magic has been ruled as the cause. More on pg.3._

The newspaper met them sombrely on Tuesday morning, the first day of class after Christmas break. It did not at all seem an appropriate end to their rather lovely yule tide and near year celebrations.

“Did this happen last time?” Ron asked frantically, eyes skimming the page over Harry’s shoulders. Harry was staring in disbelief at the prophet- a newspaper he referred to exclusively as ‘utter rubbish propaganda’.

“No” Harry breathed out. His fingers were white knuckled on the paper, crumpling the pages under his grip. “No, this didn’t happen last time”

He stood up abruptly, slamming the bench back with a large squeal that made heads turn in their direction. He grabbed his back and stormed out of the hall without another word. Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances.

“You go after him, Ron” Hermione fretted “He never listens to me”

Ron didn’t see why it was any more likely that Harry would listen to him, but he nodded, swiftly gathering his things and following the stormy retreating figure of his best friend.

“Harry” He called, catching up to him in the courtyard. Long legs came in useful sometimes. They were paused under a large tree. Harry stared at it thoughtfully.

“Draco jumped out of that tree, once” He said, in an oddly toneless voice.

Ron was taken aback by this non-sequitur “What- when?!”

Harry shook his head “Not now. In the past. He was always trying to get my attention”

“He’s always trying to get your attention now” Ron pointed out drily.

“Yes, but we were enemies then” Harry pointed out, voice making it clear that this was something Ron should already know.

“You enemies with Draco?” Ron repeated with disbelief “I don’t see it”

Harry whirled about then, kicking at a pile of dead leaves “That’s the thing. The odd thing is that Draco Malfoy and I are friends at all, that we can even stand each other. But everything’s so different here” He looked at Ron with desperate eyes, wild with panic “I don’t know anything anymore, not really. I can’t predict a thing”

“That isn’t true” Ron tried to placate, but Harry cut him off throwing his arms into the air.

“It is!” He cried “I don’t know if this is even the exact same universe I’ve been sent to, or a parallel. Maybe people act differently because they are different- not because of what I’ve done. Maybe I’ve done nothing at all. I’m useless” He gripped two fistfuls of wild black hair “What’s the point of me if I can’t save everyone?”

“You can’t save everyone” Ron said, with more bluntness than intended. Harry looked at him with startled bright eyes. “I mean, no one can save everyone. Most people can’t save anyone at all. Not ever. What you’ve done already Harry- we don’t know where we’ll end up, but I do know from what you’ve told me that you’ve gifted people lives they never could have had before. You’ve saved people”

“Nine people are dead” Harry croaked out, looking wrecked.

“You couldn’t have saved them. You didn’t know” Ron insisted.

“It was Pettigrew. I know it has to be. He’s trying to bring Voldemort back”

Ron suppressed his natural wince at the name, instead shaking his head thoughtfully “Maybe you’re right. We can look into dark rituals and see what fits the pattern. But, Harry” He came to stand in front of his best friend, placing his hands-on Harry’s shoulders and staring the shorter boy in his eyes “You cannot blame yourself. You don’t know everything. You _can’t_”

Some of the frantic madness was draining from Harry’s eyes, but his mouth was still a twisted purse.

“Okay?” Ron asked pointedly, giving him a very light shake.

“Okay” Harry said, finally letting out an exhale. “Okay”

They stood like that for a while, Harry slowly dragging breathes into his body. Then suddenly Harry shifted and flung his arms around Harry in a tight, crushing hug.

“You always know what to say” He said into Ron’s shoulder “Thank you. Thank you for being my friend”

Ron felt a surge of discomfort. There wasn’t anything special about him, he knew. Harry Potter of all people shouldn’t be singing his praise. But he couldn’t help basking in the praise slightly, even though he knew it wasn’t deserved.

“That’s what best mates are for, right?” He said simply, squeezing Harry back.

* * *

The worked tirelessly throughout January and February, buried in the library researching dark rituals any time they weren’t doing their actual homework.

“It’s a good thing there’s no Quidditch this year” Ron had remarked, plonking another dusty tome on the ‘done’ pile. From the whole book he’d only managed to find a page and a half of slightly relevant information. Plus, he’d stretched pretty far for a lot of it. He labled the parchment now, placing it onto the notes stack. Hermione was pretty into stacks when it came to research. “Merlin I hardly have time to eat”

“You’d find tie to eat on your own deathbed” Hermione had said drily, flicking a page over sharply and releasing a cloud of dust into the air as she did.

“That’s a perfect time to eat” Ron had protested, only half joking.

They’re research was slightly hindered by their lack of access to dark magic books. There only seemed to be a handful in the restricted section and there was only so many times tey could sneak in under the invisibility cloak to steal them before they had more restricted books in their possession than on the actual shelves.

What they had discovered was that many necromantic rituals required an exchange. Life for life, blood for blood. The more complex the ritual, the more death you needed. Necromancy was an even sum game. You couldn’t take anything out which you hadn’t already given tenfold. Hermione referred to it as the mark of cane for subsections of magic.

Plus, it was notoriously unreliable. More often than not you committed heinous sins to only achieve a shade of your lost loved one, or a miserable and unstable ghost.

If you wanted accuracy, you had to pay a higher price.

“Poor Muggles” Hermione bemoaned, chewing her lip “Mum and dad said the whole of London is frantic over a new serial killer”

“If only we could say it was wizards” Harry sighed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yeah. That would definitely help soothe the panic.” She drawled.

* * *

The second trial dawned at the end of February with a vengeance. The vengeance mostly consisting of it being bloody freezing.

“Here” Hermione said, handing Ron a lumpy and un-symmetrical knitted scarf “Harry told me to take up knitting”

“Er” Ron took the bundled scarf. It unravelled to be about two feet long “Thank you”

“I sort of forgot to stop knitting” Hermione said with a shrug “I’ll get better”

“I know you will” Ron said with a soft grin at her. She rolled her eyes but blushed a little.

“Come on” Harry said, as if they hadn’t been the ones waiting for ten minutes for him to emerge from the dorms “We should get a good seat. This one’s fun”

They walked out to the black lake, taking small boats out to the scaffold-esque stands. “Is this structurally safe?” Hermione said, staring up at the stands with worry.

Ron and Ginny, who had grown up in a house that defied gravity and also planning laws, just rolled their eyes, grabbing an elbow each to pull her along with them.

“So, we just wait for an hour while their down there?” Ron asked after the three champions had dived into the lake after their prizes.

“Not sure what you did last time” Harry said casually, then his eyes widened “Erm. I mean. Not that I—”

Hermione cut him off with a ‘fun fact’ about still water plant life. It was the kindest thing to do. Ginny still gave hi a suspicious look. That girl was far too suspicious by half. Almost as if she had grown up in a house with six older brothers…

Fleur Delacour had come out on top of the first task. Ron thought that this probably had something to do with her being close pals with a trained Auror and DADA teacher. Tonks had certainly cheered loudly every time Fleur had made a clever swerve or defence against the dragon. Harry had confided after his confession to Ron that he’d warned all the champions separately and ‘confidentially’ of what the first task would be.

“Fleur scares me” Ron had said, shivering involuntarily “She _knows_ things”

“yeah you weren’t all big fans of her last time” Harry had said with a laugh “It’s weird to see Hermione and Gin get on with her so well”

“But Fleur’s brilliant” Hermione had said with a confused pout.

Harry had laughed to himself “Oh merlin, times really do change”

She had looked determined as she had perfected a by-the-book swan dive into the lake, bubble-head charm in place. Krum and Diggory were only half a step behind, their own various charms in place.

“Wanna make an actual bet on this one?” Harry muttered “I have literally no idea how it’s gunna go”

Ron chuckled, but shook his head. “Nah, mate. I’m scared off bets with you for life”

“So we were under the lake?” Hermione leant over to say to them, her hair forming a small curtain from Ginny, Neville and Draco.

Harry nodded. “You were Krum’s, Ron was mine”

“Hermione was Krum’s?” Ron yelled, entirely to loudly. Draco leant around to give the three of them an incredulous look, before returning warily to his conversation with Luna about The Oracle.

Hermione answered at a much lower volume “Apparently he had a, well, a _thing_ for me”

“You were pen pals if I remember correctly” Harry said blithely, looking at Hermione sideways. Ron spluttered. Harry laughed, muttering to himself “Yes. I remember you acting like that too”

“Oi” Draco said, making his way over and plopping himself between Harry and Ginny “What are you whispering about?”

“Just making wagers on the champions” Hermione covered smoothly.

“Ah this malicious gambling addiction will foil you one day Granger” Draco said loftily.

“We try to help her” Harry said, shaking his head sadly.

“Think of the children, Hermione” Ron said, mock plaintively.

“What children?” Hermione said with an amused giggle.

“Well” Harry wheedled “There’s Ginny”

“And Luna” Draco said over Ginny’s indignant yell of ‘oy!’.

“And Nev if it comes to that” Ron said, and Neville rolled his eyes and gave him a friendly whack on the back of his head.

“How longs left” Harry asked, crowding unnecessarily, Ron thought, into Draco’s space to see his watch.

“25 minutes” Draco sniffed, but made no attempt to push Harry away. Ron rolled his eyes at the pair, sharing an exasperated look with Hermione on his left.

“Exploding snap?” Neville asked, pulling a set out from his pocket.

Twenty minutes later- and two explosions right in Draco’s unamused face- the first champion broke the surface.

“Oh excellent” Draco said as they all stood up to cheer and peer across the lake “It’s Delacour”

“She isn’t our champion, you know” Ginny said scathingly.

“Yes, but she’s so classy” Draco said happily, clapping primly.

“I still want Diggory to—”

But before Ginny could finish Cedric was breaking the surface of the water, Cho Chang gasping for breath in his arms Krum followed not even moments later, a bulky Durmstrang boy in hand.

“Well” Luna said happily “How romantic”

“Diggory and Chang? Or Krum and his strapping young fellow?” Draco said with disbelief. They all chuckled. The Durmstrang boy could be seen visible shaking off all help given to him, assuring is macho-ness.

“Well” Luna said serenely “I don’t see why it can’t be both”

* * *

Later that night Ron and Harry waited until the rest of the boys had headed to bed and no sound could be heard, before the snuck down to the common room.

“Why are we sneaking about again?” Ron muttered, following harry down the stairs. Ron noticed that his pyjamas were several inches too short, ankles on full display.

“Sirius wants to talk in private. Might know something about Pettigrew” Harry said simply.

“You think you’ll tell them about, you know, the other place?” Ron said softly, as he sat in a stuffed armchair and harry began to stoke the dying fire.

Harry shrugged “What’s the point in them knowing? They’d just be sad”

“Yeah but it would be way easier to explain why you know things than having to make up a million excuses”

Harry laughed shortly “It’s not that many excuses. Thanks for coming down with me”

“Well” Ron said simply “Hermione has homework”

“Of course” Harry said drily, as the flames grew stronger.

“Of course” Ron repeated pompously.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to say to you both—” Harry said, turning around on his knees, but he was cut off by the fire bursting into activity.

“Harry?” Remus’ voice called out “You there?”

There were two heads side-by-side in the fire, one beaming and the other painted with parental worry. The beaming one was Sirius black, hair delicately picked out in chaos by the blames and eyes bright and blazing. He seemed to be wearing eyeliner. Remus, however, was as cheerfully shabby as he had been in third year, though he looked healthy.

“Remus” Harry said scandalized “Did you let Sirius wear eyeliner?”

“He’s reliving the seventies” Remus said with an exaggerated exhaustion.

“I’m channelling Marc Bolan” Sirius said, grinning

“There hasn’t been a day in your life you haven’t channelled Marc Bolan” Remus said, voice frazzled.

“Rest in peace” Sirius said, before beginning to break out in a rendition of ‘Cosmic Dancer’. Ron’s knowledge of Muggle music had greatly grown since meeting Harry, though Harry mainly stuck to the sixties and seventies. Ron could see where he picked it up from.

“Shut up will you, you great mutt” There was a jostle in the flames, as if Remus had shouldered Sirius, who broke into laughter and stopped singing T-Rex.

“What do you have to tell me?” Harry said, looking sad to break up the joviality.

Remus said and Sirius looked more sombre too “It won’t be in the prophet, they’re keeping it hush, but five muggles were found dead in Paris. Exactly the same as in London and Amsterdam. The only thing connecting them is time of death and manner”

Amsterdam had filtered into the news only a few days earlier, with seven muggles being found dead.

“They’re decreasing the number by two” Ron said, frowning “If it’s a ritual that must have something to do with it”

“Like a maths sequence” Harry said, and Remus nodded.

“That’s what we think, too. They’ve increased muggle security in most European cities but—” Remus was cut off.

“But wizards are great racist bullocks and they won’t take affirmative action unless it’s wizard lives in danger” Sirius said drily. Remus said, but nodded along.

Harry shook his head, lips parted in confusion. “Don’t they realise that this will come back to hurt wizards? If this is Volde—”

“We don’t know that it’s him” Remus said softly.

“It is” Harry said sharply, brooking no argument. Remus and Sirius exchanged a concerned look and Ron wondered for the first time how much they suspected of Harry’s behaviour.

“Well. We’re going to Belarus next week for a few days. Pettigrew’s been sighted up there” Sirius said, awkwardly moving on.

“You think he’s actually there?” Ron asked.

Ron saw Sirius shoulders shrug in the embers “Who knows? But it’s safer to follow up on every sighting”

“We’re the perfect people for it” Remus said “Our kid’s at school, we don’t have full time jobs and we can live off of Sirius’ fortune for the next three lifetimes”

Ron noticed Harry blush happily at the phrase ‘our kid’. Ron also knew that Remus sometimes worked at an odd antique bookshop in Soho, but that the owner was oddly understanding of Remus leaving at regular intervals to search odd corners of Eurasia.

“How’s the wedding planning?” Harry teased softly.

“Terrible” Remus sighed at the same time Sirius exclaimed “Excellent!”

They devolved into an argument about wedding themes (“We cannot dedicate our wedding to your ‘lord and saviour’ David Bowie” “The hell we can’t!”) with Harry butting in with teasing remarks every now and then.

Ron just observed it, laughing and smiling at the family banter. It was nice to see Harry when he relaxed like this, like he was a kid instead of the odd old-soul behind a scrawny fourteen-year-old façade he usually was.

Nothing made Ron happier than watching his best friend be un-apologetically happy.

* * *

“Here” Ron said, passing Hermione a charmed steaming cup of tea as he swung his legs around a bench in the study-hall.

“Where--?” Hermione said, staring at the tea with wonder. Her hair was frizzed chaotically about her head.

“We snuck into the kitchen” Ron said simply, pulling his book out of his back and beginning to open it.

He didn’t notice Hermione stare at _him_ in wonder for a moment before taking a happy sip, her cheeks red not just from the heat of the mug.

* * *

In potions in April Ron couldn’t help himself from laughing at Harry. Harry had recently filled him in n his history with Snape and now every interaction the pair had caused Ron to break out into a fit of giggles.

Harry still stood by his first-year habit of hiding under things as often as possible, whether that be the table, a tented book or in Hermione’s hair. Small shrieks of fear and deep flushes of embarrassment clouded Harry’s every step-in potions. Every time he was tasked with going to the ingredient’s cupboard, he treated it like some deadly mission- tiptoeing around the classroom and hiding behind pillars every time he thought Snape had spotted him or was coming his way.

To be honest, Ron thought Snape seemed baffled by it. He remembered vaguely the animosity Snape had had towards Harry in the early months of first year, but by now it had cooled into a strained bafflement. Ron suspected that Snape thought Harry was simple.

“Potter” Snape drawled once, having appeared unheard behind them as they worked on a pepper-up potion. Harry had flung the powdered bicorn horn so high into the air that it had landed on Snape, dusting his greasy black bob in shimmering iridescent powder. Snape’s expression had been priceless and it had taken everything in Ron not to burst into laughter right there. He’d heard many of his classmates failing to do so behind him.

“Potter” Snape had said, lips barely parted and voice teeming with suppressed anger “Detention”

“Oh god” Harry had said, as if involuntarily “Please, no”

“Two detentions for cheek!” Snape had seethed, turning on his heel and vanishing into his office.

Ron had been unable to comfort his best friend, too consumed with trying to breathe through his laughter.

“Ron” Harry had said, face impossibly drained of colour “I’m going to jump off the astronomy tower. I swear I’m going to do it”

“Don’t worry” Ron had wheezed, patting his best friends shoulder weakly “You can always have a nice long chat about your mum”

At Harry’s tortured expression, Rn had been forced into another round of wracking hoots.

* * *

They left Draco with Blaise and Pansy- who he caught up with every so often to hear the pureblood gossip- and snuck off to their now familiar classroom on the seventh floor.

It was early may and they had been generally taken up with revising for exams (“I didn’t have to do them last time” Harry had said with a pout. “Yeah, but last time you had to fight a dragon, so” Ron had pointed out, which had shut him up.) or revising dark necromantic rituals. It was an odd mix. But fitting for them.

Draco was involved in both of these activities, though definitely more passionate when it came to revision- him and Hermione could be _downright_ terrifying, so they didn’t often have time to discuss their third project. Harry Potter’s crazy life.

“I don’t see why we can’t just tell Draco” Ron muttered, stuffing a pillow harshly into the floor. He was in a foul mood because he’d spent that morning getting successive questions wrong on Hermione’s transfiguration flash cards.

Hermione gave Harry a dark look. Ron guessed they’d had this talk before. “Yeah, Har_ry_”

“It just isn’t safe” Harry muttered, looking shifty “The more people who know, the more dangerous it is”

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron frowned “You just don’t want him to know you weren’t friends in the past”

“He still doesn’t trust him” Hermione said harshly, and Ron’s eyebrows shot up.

“But you two are—you know”

Harry frowned “We’re what?”

Ron exchanged knowing looks with Hermione, then shrugged “You know, friends. You don’t _trust_ him?”

“It isn’t that I don’t trust him” Harry said unconvincingly “It’s just…. You can’t understand. We were enemies for seven years. You hated him too. He was a brat”

“He’s a bit of a brat now” Ron pointed out reasonably.

Harry sighed, tugging his hand through his hair. “Yeah I know but that’s not what I mean. He was… God. I attacked him in sixth year, you know. This horrible dark curse that Snape invented. I didn’t even know what it did. I didn’t care. I just cast it on him, and it was horrible. The blood…”

Harry trailed off. Hermione watched him with worry, biting her lip “But he’s your friend now”

“He’s our best friend” Ron pointed out, not being able to imagine not having the arrogant but charming blonde around.

Harry shrugged uneasily “I don’t know how to tell him. Any of it”

Hermione and Ron exchange a further look, then both resolved to let it go. Not forever though.

“What did you want to talk about?” Hermione said, in a falsely light tone.

Harry took a moment to shake himself out of his reverie, but then looked up with a grimace. This oen less emotional and more of the scolded child who knows he’s done something wrong and he’s about to be told off.

“Now” He said hesitantly “Here’s the thing”

There was a beat of heavy silence.

“We’re, uh, we’re going to have to break into Gringotts”

Another beat of silence.

“What?” Hermione shrieked, flinging her hands in the air.

“Are you crazy?” Ron said, laughing in astonishment.

“To be fair, we’ve done it before” Harry hedged.

Ron threw his head back and laughed. Hermione shrieked indignantly.

“You have! I’m still mad at you for making me break into Sirius’ house in first year”

“And the gaunt house” Harry winced, as if he couldn’t help himself.

“And that bloody place. Bad enough you dragged me and Ginny into that”

Ron made an angry noise. He hadn’t been happy to learn his eleven-year-old sister had been taken on a dangerous adventure. Then again, he knew it had probably somehow been her fault. Ginny’s ability to blackmail her way into situations was positively diabolical.

“Sorry” Hermione said automatically. She’d said it enough since that particular story had come out “But _Harry_. We can’t break into Gringotts. And before you say it, we are not breaking out on a dragon. Those poor creatures have been through enough”

Ron knew that Hermione often wrote to the bank demanding better treatment for the animals. It was a side project of her house-elf campaign.

“Well, no” Harry conceded “I was hoping that this time would go a lot better than the last. After all, I have insider information. I’ve literally robbed it before.” He shrugged “And I can’t just leave the horcruxes in the Chamber of Secrets indefinitely. I need to get them all, then destroy them”

“Which ones in Gringotts, again?” Ron said, scrunching his nose in forgetfulness.

“Hufflepuffs cup is in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault” Harry said grimly “We just need the cup”

“Who’s Bellatrix Lestrange? I recognise the name” Ron questioned, the name ringing a bell. For some reason Neville shot into his mind but he couldn’t say why.

“An awful woman. She’s in Azkaban” Harry said.

“You said she broke out last time” Hermione said with worry.

“She did” Harry shrugged “But I have a plan”

Ron frowned “What plan?”

Harry’s face was dark “Leave it to me”

There was another laden silence, then Hermione sighed, pulling her bag towards her. From its depth she pulled a spiral bound notebook. Ron recognised it as one of her ‘Harry’ notebooks.

“For god’s sake” She said, pulling a lid off one of her muggle quills “Lets plan this bloody thing then.”

Harry grinned. Ron groaned.

They were breaking into a bank it seemed.

* * *

But their grand break in seemed far off in the future. Before that even, there was the Triwizard tournament.

“I can’t believe how calm this whole thing has been” Harry said with disbelief as the sat in the stands surrounding he maze.

“Yeah well it’s an odd phenomenon. You see, when we take you out of the equation things tend to run smoothly” Ron quipped. Harry huffed, shoving him lightly.

“Shurrup” He grumbled, scanning the maze with bright eyes.

Ron didn’t know how he was keeping his eyes open. They’d done a very small heist the night before, breaking into Ludo Bagmans temporary office at Hogwarts to check that the cup wasn't tampered with. When they’d gotten the all-clear, no super-secret death port-key in sight, they’d trudged back up to bed.

Harry was still all nerves, however. He was convinced that at any moment something would go wrong. Ron couldn’t blame him. The last time Harry had seen this maze, he’d been dragging Diggory’s lifeless body from it.

“He’ll be fine” Hermione said softly, rubbing Harry’s back.

Ron looked at Draco with disgust. He was waving a small powder-blue flag.

“What?” Draco said. Smiling innocently “You expect me to support a Hufflepuff?”

Sometimes Ron could really believe Harry when he said that Draco had been a Slytherin.

Fleur Delacour became the Hogwarts champion, beating Diggory even though Diggory had reached the cup moments before her. Her joint points and spellmanship won her it in the end.

The Beaxbatons students were ecstatic, and the other two schools were in high spirits too, despite their loss. They all cheered and laughed on the long trudge back to the castle.

Tonks was walking beside them, ostensibly as a guardian though Tonks couldn’t manage to seem authoritarian if she tried, chatting away.

“You think you’ll teach again next year?” Ginny asked her happily, still half laughing from Tonks changing her nose into a pig.

Tonks gave an exaggerated shudder “Gods no. you’re all good kids, sure, but I am not a teacher”

“Never work with kids or beasts” Draco said sagely, and Tonks nodded emphatically. Tonks and Draco had an odd relationship. They were first cousins but had never met before the year’s start. They had tea together fortnightly. Draco said it was only now becoming less awkward.

“True, cos” She said, fluffing up his hair “Plus I miss the field. Nah, I’m going back to badger poor Mad-eye. He says he hasn’t missed me, but I can see the sorrow in his eyes”

“Deep down, I’m sure” Harry said drily, and she laughed.

“The cheek of you, Potter. I’ll be telling your, er, Sirius”

“Wonder who we’ll get next year” Ginny said with a sigh “No one as good as you or Lupin”

Harry gave a slight shudder. Ron wondered what he was thinking about.

“You never know” Tonks said with a grin “I’ve heard rumours”

“What rumours?” Ginny demanded, eyes light with the possibility of gossip.

“Ah, ah. For me to know and—”

“Bonjour!” A cheerful voice trilled. They all stopped as Fleur Delacour bound up to them, looking just as beautiful despite the mud on her face and her torn robes.

“You were excellent” Ginny gushed, holding out her hand for a high five which Fleur gave with bemusement.

“That Atmospheric charm was inspired” Hermione said, looking awed.

“Merci, mon petite fleurs” Fleur said, smiling beatifically. She reminded Ron of a fairy queen greeting her subjects.

“Wotcher” Tonks said, in an odd choked voice. Her cheeks and hair were bright red. Ron noticed that she had transfigured her usual plain features into more—well. Striking ones.

“Nymphadora” Fleur trilled, the name sing song in her accent. They all exchanged looks as Tonks gave no protest. “I must thank you, merci beaucoup. Mille merci á vous. You helped me win”

“I didn’t” Tonks said flustered “You’re brilliant on your own.”

“Non! Without you I would have never come this far” Fleur was beaming at Tonks, eyes trained on the shorter woman like dazzling laser’s “You will owl me this summer, and next year help me settle, non?”

“Where are you going?” Hermione said with interest.

“Oh, mon deus, you must owl me to Hermione” Her voice lilted when she said Hermione’s voice, as if she was purposefully trying to pronounce it the English way. It was a terribly thoughtful thing for her to do “All you marvellous women. I will be here next year, if Dumbledore agrees”

“You’re staying another year? But your grades are excellent” Ginny said with confusion.

“They are” Fleur said without bashfulness “I will be your teacher”

“Our teacher?” Ron exclaimed. She sent her grin his way, now. He felt his knees wobble.

“Yes. Nymphadora suggested it and I thought, perfect! I applied to Dumbledore and now that I have won, he cannot refuse I’m sure”

“He’d be silly to” Tonks mumbled. The two women smiled at each other for a long moment, as if the rest of them weren’t there. Huh, Ron thought, wonder what’s happening there.

“But you’d be the youngest professor in a hundred and fifty years” Hermione said, voice impressed.

“Yes.” Fleur said, flicking her sheet of silver hair over her shoulder “I believe firmly in breaking records other people have set”

Then she grabbed Tonks’ hand, dragging the woman ahead and talking at her a mile a minute in a mix of French and English.

Hermione stared after her in awe, Ginny too.

“She is so cool” Ginny breathed.

“So weird” Harry muttered to himself with a soft chuckle, moving to go after the two women disappearing towards the castle. “Come on, you lot. It’s not exactly warm for June”

* * *

Ron was sat on a desk in the Oracle office, legs swinging beneath him. It was only a week before the end of term. Ron had tagged along with Luna and Ginny to watch his latest addition of The Adventures of Barry Blotter (This time Ermintrude, Rick and Barry were fighting dementors and murderers and werewolves, oh my!)

Mainly it had devolved into watching Ginny and Pansy Parkinson snipe at each other over the fashion section. Ron estimated a full screaming match might evolve over the next few minutes. Luna was serenely enchanting the printing press in the corner, oblivious.

The Oracle’s office had been charmed larger over the last years, now containing three printing presses and many overtly personalised desks. It wasn’t unusual to find any number of reporters or editors pulling their hair out on week-day nights, adopting the habits of their more seasoned reporter ancestors by guzzling black coffee and gesturing with quills and pens. They had several sections now, new and old, and Every fortnight when the new edition came out people read it raptly, discussing aspects for days after.

It had influenced Hogwarts population greatly. Due to Draco’s (secret but really everyone knew) music column many pureblood wizards could be seen listening to Beatles records on adapted Record players in the courtyards and rec rooms of Hogwarts. There had been an odd week when they had reached ‘Revolver’ and sheltered wizards had been introduced to what could happen when muggles took Psychoactive drugs and picked up guitars. Ron himself had been rather shocked, though he had personally loved ‘Eleanor Rigby’.

Careful cut-out of his and Dean’s comics appeared regularly pinned to the Gryffindor corkboard. Ron suspected Ginny in some strange younger sister pride thing.

Ron was just proofreading the last panel when there was a flurry of noise.

The door to the office burst open “There’s been an attack!” It was David, the fifth year who wrote the History op-eds. His face was flushed, and he was clutching a letter in the air. “I got a letter from my aunt at the prophet. It’ll be in tonight’s news. There’s three dead and they’re _wizards_”

Ron surged forward, flinging himself off the desk. He snatched the letter out of David’s hands, eyes scanning passed the useless information from David’s aunt until he reached the crucial information.

_There’s three wizards dead. Cynthia Diggory, Alfred Hitch and Augusta Longbottom. There’s a Longbottom in your year, isn’t their Davey? Apparently, she fought fiercely. But they all died. Dreadful business. Attackers weren’t even seen. _

Ron looked up into the worried faces of Luna and Ginny. They had crowded around him. Pansy was clutching her hands together, tightly, her usually dark skin pale and clammy.

“We need to find Neville” Was all Ron said, passing the letter to the Slytherin girl and bolting from the room, Ginny and Luna hot in his heels.

* * *

Harry shot another blasting charm at the tree. It came away only lightly scorched. Either Harry wasn’t putting his full power behind the curse, which in his rage didn’t seem likely, or Dumbledore had had the foresight to charm all the trees for this very reason. Teenage angst could be environmentally damaging.

“Fucking hell” He yelled, cursing a patch of grass which burst up like a small mud volcano.

Ron winced, watching Harry pace violently, muttering to himself and scowling.

Ginny, Luna and he had found their friend group outside, basking in the June sun. Their three pale faces had tipped the group off quickly, with easy smiles slipping off their faces and Harry shooting into the air.

“What’s happened?” harry had demanded, but Ron had looked past him to a nervous looking Neville who was half up from his lounging position.

“Nev” Ron had choked “It’s—” But he hadn’t been able to go on.

Luna had walked past Ron, sitting town and softly telling him the news. Ron had watched Neville’s face go parchment white, his hands coming up to clutch uselessly at his jumper. Ron’s stomach dropped to watch it, but Luna swept him into a tight hug.

“What happened?” Hermione asked the Weasley siblings softly, Harry and Draco similarly next to them to give Nev and Luna some small privacy.

“Neville’s Grandma” Ginny said, voice horrified “She was killed in an attack.”

Harry’s jaw went slack and Hermione let out a yelp of fear and shock. Draco looked at Ron sharply. “Who else?”

“Two others” Ron said under his breathe “I think, I mean I’m not sure, but one was a diggory. I think Cedric’s mum. And another wizard I didn’t know”

“The sequence” Hermione breathed in horror. Ron nodded grimly.

It was hardly a beat later that Harry turned away from them, storming his way up a hill. Ron had noticed tears brimming in his eyes before he’d left. Ron watched a small explosion burst from the ground where Harry pointed his wand.

“I’ll make sure he’s alright” Ron said softly, and everyone nodded, watching Neville with sorrowful eyes.

That was where they were now, at the top of a small hillock under a strangely sturdy tree. Harry pacing back and forth, tearing his hair out.

“Harry, mate” Ron pleaded, hugging his own chest. He was chill all over, though the day was pleasantly warm still.

“Don’t” Harry croaked, standing still. He clutched his hair at the roots, rubbing his eye sockets with the butt of his hands. He seemed wrecked “Don’t”

“It wasn’t your—”

“Who else’s fault was it?” Harry exploded, flinging his arms out “Pettigrews? Well guess who let Pettigrew escape? Jesus, Ron. I should have known. I should have stopped this. I’ve been lazy. Fucking complacent. Now Neville hasn’t got anyone to look out for him”

“You couldn’t have known” Ron said weakly.

“Yes, I could!” Harry yelled, eyes wild and wide “That’s the whole point. I know. I know what’s trying to happen here, every day. And everyday I’m trying to push it down. Stop Voldemort coming back. Keep everyone alive” His voice croaked n that last word “And what for? I keep one person safe and another one dies. It’s cosmic fucking whack-a-mole, Ron. How do I do this? How the hell do I keep doing this?”

Ron didn’t have any words for his best friend. He couldn’t imagine the pain he was feeling, and he couldn’t make the boy share the burden with him. That wasn’t Harry’s way. Harry carried burdens until the weight of it killed him. Then he only asked for more. More weight, like that guy in the Salem Witch trials. More weight.

Instead of speaking, he stepped forward, engulfing his best friend in a choking embrace. Harry collapsed against him, knees going weak. He sobbed into Ron’s school robe, chest shaking silently.

“It isn’t your fault” Ron said fiercely, wishing he could somehow protect Harry from the world. Keep him buried somewhere safe until the sun came out. “None of this is your fault”

He knew Harry didn’t believe it, but Ron would say it until he did and that was what mattered. That one-day Harry might believe he was worthy of a forgiveness he already had.

They stood like that for a long while, Ron repeating his words and Harry crying. They would stay as long as needed, Ron thought. They were facing away from their friends where they stood, the view directly in front of them the gates of Hogwarts.

Ron wasn’t sure how much time later it was, but eventually the shouts filtered over to them. Ron’s head shot up, staring across the grounds to the gates. They had been pulled open. There were clear figures standing around- Ron recognised Tonks, Dumbledore, McGonagall.

“Harry” Ron said, shaking his best friend slightly. Harry pried himself away, eyes red and puffy, he turned to look.

They both watched for a long moment, though they couldn’t hear anything. Then Tonks shifted ever so lightly to the left. And there on the ground in front of the gates-

A body.

Ron should have predicted it, but he didn’t. So, when Harry went racing down the hill towards the group at the gate, Ron was a few steps behind. He reached them moments after Harry, but it didn’t matter. Harry was standing stock-still in stunned silence.

“Harry” Tonks said with a tortured voice “You should go back to the castle”

“You shouldn’t be here, my boy” Dumbledore concurred, his usually serene voice tight.

“Oh, merlin” Ron said, staring down at the corpse on front of them.

And it was a corpse. Decayed. But unmistakable.

Peter Pettigrew lay dead in a heap at the gates of Hogwarts castle, body twisted demonically. His eyes were staring up at the blue sky, no longer watery and beady as they had been. Now they were blank.

Ron felt someone trying to usher him away, heard words like ‘Aurors’ and ‘minister’, but he didn’t process it and he didn’t move. He just stared down at Pettigrew, who’s dish-water blonde hair was stained a dark drown with dried blood.

On his forehead someone had carved a jagged ‘V’.

For the first time since hearing Harry’s tales, Ron felt a genuine fear crackle down his spine.

* * *

The train ride was sombre. Hogwarts had been sombre for days, but not for the same reasons Ron was. The castle was in mourning for the Wizards who had lost their lives, and while Ron mourned them too it was Pettigrew’s lifeless, mangled corpse that haunted him.

It must have been the final stage of a ritual. The first nine muggles, bodies twisted and blood drained, then the seven in Amsterdam with their eyes carved out, the French five who’s tongues had been severed, the three Wizards dead in their homes. Then Pettigrew. Were those the ingredients to make a man? And what kind of man would that make?

They truly didn’t know a thing. Not even if Voldemort was back though Harry was convinced. The student body and wider population had not been told of the final attack, with Harry and Ron sworn not to speak of it publicly despite Harry’s protests.

They had wasted no time in telling their friends. All seven of them, their group of mismatched miscreants, were crowded stiffly into a single compartment. All conversations eventually petering out, candles blown out by the heavy grief and worry in the air.

Neville was stoic, his initial tears replaced with a strength Ron had not expected. Ron should have known. Neville was a Gryffindor. He was a stronger person than any of them knew. Sirius and Remus had stepped up immediately to take him in and so he would be going home with Harry. Ron wondered what the mood of Grimmauld place would be like that summer. He wondered if his mum would even let him go over to see them, or if she would keep them all barricaded in fear.

He would sneak out, of course. To see the boys and to see Hermione. He was clutching a teary Hermione’s hand right then, hands squished between them. Ron wouldn’t leave his friends alone in their fear and their grief.

It was strange. There was nothing extraordinary about Ronald Weasley. There should never have been anything special or extraordinary about him or his life at all. And yet—

And yet Ron suspected that he would never have an ordinary life again. In fact he suspected he had never actually had a normal life to begin with, even before a smiling Harry burst into his train compartment.

He squeezed Hermione’s hand, thoughts hurtling as they sped closer and closer to London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading. up next: Neville. we in the home stretch boys.  
Also can you tell i love Fleur Delacour with my whole heart? please ask me about my little head canons discussing hp makes me so happy.


	5. Neville Longbottom and the Shades of Bravery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope everyone's quarantine isn't too awful.   
hope you enjoy this chapter. any mistakes are my own  
thank you so much for the support

It was raining cats and dogs on the day that Remus Lupin married Sirius Black, but it didn’t matter to them.

The backyard of the groom’s London townhouse had been magically enlarged and transformed by an ardent team of magical wedding planners. On the morning of the big day they could be found running about the place like headless chickens, casting rain repellent charms and creating makeshift golden awnings over everything they could.

The regular residents of the townhouse- which included said grooms and their adopted ward Harry Potter- all commented on the oddness of having strangers around the place. It had been mere months since Sirius Black had had all charges against him legally dropped. Finally, to be acquitted in the eyes of the law after a gruelling four years.

Neville Longbottom couldn’t comment on having strangers in the house, although he too was a full time of the house and had been since the abrupt and early beginnings of the summer holiday. That had been in June and even now, in August, he still wasn’t used to it.

“A summer wedding” Sirius said, coming to stand next to Neville where the lanky boy (he’d shot up four inches in the past few months. He wondered, morbidly and with great guilt, if it was due to a sudden lack of crushing parental pressure. Then he went back to missing his Grandmother a lot.) was staring out of the window at the usually skinny yard. Now it was big enough to fit over one hundred guests. And it would do just that in less than an hour. “Never thought I’d see the day”

Sirius was fixing his cuffs, which were shaped like tiny little howling wolf heads, the only part of his outfit missing being his coattails. Neville had wondered why the grooms had decided to marry in muggle dress, before it had been explained to him that Remus had been raised a muggle, despite his father’s wizarding blood, and wanted to honour his heritage. “I just want to piss off my dead family” Sirius had said, laughing. “And I look great in a suit”

Sirius, who did in fact look great in a suit, smiled sideways at him. He’d been incredibly kind to Neville ever since the boy had come to live with them. “We always wanted to get married at Christmas. That was when we got together you know, over a Christmas break where only us two stayed at Hogwarts” He stared down at the wedding venue, eyes glazed into the past “But I suppose August will do”

“The weather’s not summer like at all” Neville pointed out, then wondered if that was another one of those odd things, he always found himself saying, even when he tried not to.

Sirius barked out a laugh. “See? Fate, that is”

Sirius clapped him heartily on the shoulder. His hair was pulled back into a complicated plait, and he was wearing sparkly gold eyeliner. His waistcoat was crimson silk, his buttons gold. Neville found himself feeling flushed and squirmy when he took him in entirely, and he desperately ignored reasoning why.

“You okay, kid?” Sirius asked softly. He had been surprisingly gentle towards Neville since June, something that didn’t fit with the wrongly accused mass-murderer and wild godfather of Harry he’d always envisioned him as. Neville had had very little to do with Sirius Black at all. He knew Remus much better from Hogwarts. But it was Sirius who took him to Mungo’s to see his parents, even more regularly than his Gran had. And he talked to ‘Frank’ and ‘Alice’ as he referred to them as if they were still there, which Neville was always appreciative of. He never made a comment when Neville sometimes cried or had to cut visits short out of too many overwhelming feelings.

“I’m okay” Neville said hurriedly “It’s your wedding day. Don’t worry about me”

Sirius gave him a puzzled look, his eyes searching “Course I worry, Nev. You’re one of my lot now. Crazy pack that we are”

Neville flushed, looking down awkwardly at his black dress shoes. He didn’t say anything. Sirius just patted him again, warmly.

“Just enjoy the day, if you can.” He said kindly “And go check Harry hasn’t been lost entirely to his tux, yeah?”

Neville nodded jerkily, spinning around on his feet so fast he almost fell over sideways. He was grateful when Sirius didn’t laugh.

\--

Harry had not lost himself in his tuxedo. In fact, he was sprawled longways on his bed in it, talking into a mirror. If Neville didn’t know him better, he’d have called him vain.

Instead, he could hear the haughty, practically RP, accent floating out of the mirror and he connected Harry’s particular lazy smile to the only person it was ever directed at.

“How’s Draco?” Neville asked, sitting carefully on the bed beside Harry. Harry grinned at him, shifting over so Neville could lie down beside him and look at Draco in the mirror. He looked animatedly frustrated, as usual.

“Draco is terrible” He huffed, pushing his long blonde hair back harshly “I can’t make up an excuse to get there. Mother wants to floo to York, today of all days, and get tea together”

“Oh woe is you” Neville said drily, feeling embarrassed instantly. But Harry next to him burst into laughter.

“He’s got you there, mate” Harry said between snorts “Poor, poor you”

“Oh shush, you misfit orphans” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “I wanted to see Remus and Sirius tie the knot finally. They’ve only been talking about it for a millennium”

“Not that long, quite” A voice said from the doorway. Remus stood leaning inside the door frame, smiling mildly.

Though not as striking and impossibly handsome as his soon-to-be husband, Neville couldn’t lie and say that Professor Lupin hadn’t cleaned up smartly. His own waistcoat was gold, matching his sandy colouring perfectly. He looked suffused in a warm light, even his terrible scars softened and over shadowed. He wasn’t wearing eyeliner, but he did have a lovely red poppy in his buttonhole.

“You look nice” Harry said, sitting up and smiling at his quasi-dad.

“And you would, too. _If _you tied that tie.” Remus said drily, smiling at Harry with love in his eyes.

Harry’s red and cold patterned tie was slung haphazardly around his neck. He rolled his eyes. “Gotta go, Draco. The parental units are being demanding. Almost as if this is a special day or something?”

Remus laughed, rapping his knuckles against the door jamb “Bye, Draco. And you two, be downstairs in twenty”

Neville and Harry exchanged eye-rolls. Neville felt happiness bubble up at the familiarity of it.

\--

Neville wasn’t a part of the wedding Party. In fact, the only people Sirius and Harry had stand up with them was Harry, standing at Remus’ left, and Tonks who stood next to Sirius. Andromeda Tonks, nee Black, was officiating for them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls..." She began.

Next to him, Hemione let out a soft sigh of joy. Neville noticed she was squeezing Ron’s hand tightly in her lap.

He watched the altar. He noticed, with an alarming jolt, that Harry looked rather dashing where he stood. Neville bemoaned what good presentation could do to otherwise unknown quantities.

\--

Neville was dancing with Ginny on the dance floor when he was told the news.

“You know” Ginny said in what Neville thought of as her ‘gossip voice’ “Ron’s going to ask Hermione to be his girlfriend”

Neville held her slightly away from him, looking down at her incredulously “Really? Me and the boys thought it would take ages longer than that”

“Well you and _the boys_” She dragged the words out teasingly “Are wrong. I’ve been hyping him up all summer”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing at the burrow” Neville surmised. The Weasley’s had been surprisingly reticent in their visits that summer.

“Well we didn’t want to—” Ginny said, looking awkward “Harry thought it would be better if you could, g_rieve_, quietly”

Neville nodded, touched by the thought and as always deeply uncomfortable at the idea of anyone going out of their way for him. He didn’t comment, though, not wanting to open up the opportunity for Ginny to ask how he was.

Lots of people had been asking how he was.

The truth was Neville didn’t know. He didn’t think he’d ever known. He didn’t think he’d ever been anything, ever. Just a nebulous blob of family disappointment and failed spells.

And now he was untethered. An escaped balloon losing air.

Ginny didn’t say anymore. That was why Neville liked her so much.

“What about you, then?” He asked, voice sly.

She looked at him, trying to put on an air of confusion even through her revealing blush. Neville spotted Luna over her shoulder, dressed in yellow and dancing with her father and Harry in odd patterns.

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean, Neville Longbottom.” She said with practiced ease. They didn’t say anything more about it.

\--

Draco arrived late into the party, flustered. Many cheers went up from their group at his fearless escape.

“I wasn’t sure if I should even come” He said, looking round at the crowd “What if it gets back to my parents?”

“No one Sirius and Remus would invite would talk to your parents” Harry said, though he too looked around assessing at the crowd. 

“You never know” Draco said grimly “In these times” But he sat down on a gold-bowed chair either way, falling into grinning chatter with Harry.

Neville took the opportunity to take in the crowd. ‘These times’ referred to the events of the end of last school year, which Neville had been told in strict confidence by Harry and Ron.

Voldemort was back. But you would hardly be able to tell from the crowd of happy weddinggoers, orbiting merrily the happy couple in the centre who swayed with each other, eyes never straying.

Voldemort was back, but Neville was at a happy, gorgeous wedding with all of his close friends and so the only sign of him was the gape in Neville’s life where his Gran had lived, and the old aching wound that his glassy-eyed parents sent pulsing every time he saw them.

_We live in interesting times_, Neville thought sadly, sipping his butterbeer.

\--

The wedding was beginning to wrap up when Neville found himself sitting next to a forlorn looking best woman. Tonks was dressed in a suit, too, and had morphed her hair into the classic Black family raven curls. Though she did keep the ends bubble-gum pink.

“Wotcher, Nev” She said, voice monotone. Neville noticed a few empty glasses around her. She didn’t seem drunk, but maybe that was because Neville had only witnessed Sirius Black and his uncle truly drunk and they both became astoundingly exuberant on the stuff.

Neville like Tonks. She’d been a very helpful professor, and less intimidating than Remus had been. Neville wasn’t sure why shabby Professor Lupin had intimidated him, and he was certain Harry would tease him mercilessly if he knew, but he had. Perhaps it was his self-assuredness.

Tonks was such a mess it was almost reassuring. She knocked over books, scattered parchment, spilt ink. Neville wondered how you could be an Auror when you couldn’t traverse a classroom without tripping at least three times. But he had seen her brutal efficiency, the strength in her casting.

She’d been kind and thorough when explaining concepts and homework to him in her office hours. More often than not Fleur Delacour, the intimidating French champion, had been crowded in the corner of Tonks office, piled away behind stacks of pucks and rolls of parchments. “Research student” Tonks had explained to him, as if that should reason away everything.

“Are you alright?” He asked her softly, now. She smiled blearily at him.

“You’re a good egg, Nevvy” She said, a slight slur to her voice “And no. I am” She took a dramatic pause “Lo_ve_ sick”

They both paused. Considering her words.

“Don’t tell my cousin I said that” She said awkwardly “He’ll never let me live it down”

“I’m sorry?” Neville offered, patting her hand lightly.

“Ah well” Tonks said, signalling a floating platter of drinks with her wand “All's fair in love and war, eh? Is that meant to be positive? Never mind” She plucked the drink of the tray and took a heavy gulp “All’s well that ends whatever”

“Better to have loved—” Neville began, but Tonks cut him of with a groan.

“Oh god” She moaned “Better to have died. Much, much better”

They drank, Neville only butterbeer, in companionable misery until the wedding ended. It was surprisingly pleasant.

* * *

Neville and Harry stayed at the Burrow for a week after the wedding, so that the Lupin-Black’s could enjoy married life in peace for a short time. They sent the cats (Now numbering a worrying four. Sam and Frodo the strays joined by two spoilt kittens fittingly named Merry and Pippin) to Tonks’ tiny London flat because Sirius thought it would be funny. Neville had been for tea and short play dates when he was younger but staying there was entirely different.

Harry seemed entirely at peace, never even asking for directions or for the location of such minor things as the cupboard where the cups were kept, although to Neville’s best knowledge he’d never stayed there before. No one else seemed to notice, but then again, the house and its inhabitants were so reckless and loud it was hard to notice anything beneath their surface crust of chaos.

Molly Weasley was desperately nice, a far more maternal figure than his late Gran had been. She fussed over him desperately. So much that Harry quipped it was nice to have a break. Arthur was kind to a fault, listening intently as Neville awkwardly stuttered through an odd fact about plants. He then excitedly had Neville explain to him the differences in the muggle plant kingdom, which Neville did as best he could.

He met Bill, a curse-breaker who worked for Gringotts, only once. They didn’t interact much beyond initial introductions, but Neville did notice that Harry, Ron and Hermione kept shooting him unreadable looks and would skirt away from him if he got to close. He wondered what that was about.

Charlie he only heard about in fantastical tails of Dragon keeping from the rest of the family around the dinner table. Percy was a quieter figure than his preceding reputation suggested. Neville had been to busy hiding from his authority to know him very well, and he gained little from his stay except to learn that Percy was still as diligent and obsessive about work as he had always seemed before.

The twins were the ones who made the greatest impression. Fred and George were constantly roping Neville into their experiments.

“We need a herbology expert” George explained, tugging goggles onto his face. In the corner of the seemingly ordinary bedroom sheets of metal had been stuck to the walls and a cauldron was giving off tendrils of yellow smoke.

“And Ronniekins says you’re excellent” Fred said, grinning and passing Neville a pair of goggles too. Neville saw far too many explosions in that short week, but he did leave with a list of tasks and the inklings of experiments he had been ordered to explore and report back to them. Neville wondered ominously if he had accidentally signed his soul to the devil without knowing.

It was Ginny and Ron he spent the most time with, of course. And they were rounded out by Harry and Hermione, who had come to stay after the wedding as well, and Luna whenever she wandered down from her house or they wandered up to hers.

It was an idyllic week, even if Neville spent half of it accidentally feeling like a burden. There was only so many times he could walk into a room containing Hermione, Ron and Harry and have them jump feet apart from each other without feeling like the cause.

Hermione and Ron had been known to jump apart when someone walked into the room, but that was for an entirely different reason. Merlin, young love could be nauseating when you’ve walked in on it by accident.

It was in this week that two letters arrived at the Weasley’s kitchen window. One addressed, as expected, to Hermione. The other landed in Harry’s lap. While Hermione eagerly tore her letter open and let a small shining prefect badge drop into her hand, Harry stared at his in what one could almost call horror.

“That bastard” He’d muttered, quiet enough that only Neville and perhaps Ginny could have heard. Then he slammed the letter on the kitchen table and stormed out of the room.

The residents of the kitchen all stared at each other in confusion, though after Ron went and talked to him, they all agreed not to mention it to his face again.

* * *

The morning of September first was unsurprisingly hectic. All four of them woke up late, blamed the others for this, and spent the whole morning bickering and alternatively dodging/throwing forgotten items around the house in the vain hope that they would reach already overstuffed trunks.

“I thought you said you were packed two days ago?” Sirius said, frantic as he sat on Harry’s trunk and Harry tried to belt t shut.

“I was!” Harry said through strained teeth “Things have apparently _manifested_ since then”

Neville declined to point out the falsehood in that and instead slunk back to his room, checking again if he’d left anything behind.

It was ten to eleven by the time they arrived on the platform. Sirius and Remus, still with bedhead and- yes Neville was almost certain- with their pyjamas under their robes, said goodbye with tight hugs and desperate pleas to ‘be good’.

“We will be” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Why do I not believe you?” Remus bemoaned.

“Because we were fifteen once” Sirius pointed out, looking slightly green around the gills. He tucked a comforting arm around his husband.

“Oh, Merlin” Remus breathed “Please, please do not do anything we did”

“Or anything we do” Sirius added.

“Just don’t do anything” Remus said finally, petting them both on the cheek.

Harry and Neville exchanged amused glances. All the adults had become more frantically protective as the summer wore on and more reports of unexplained muggle attacks had surfaced.

“Love you” Harry said, giving short embraces to each of his guardians before heading towards the train. Neville noticed he held Sirius particularly tight. Looking at him oddly as he pulled away. “See you at Christmas” He muttered.

“Thank you for taking me in” Neville said to them awkwardly.

Sirius and Remus smiled at him kindly “Don’t mention it. It was a pleasure. We’ll see you at Christmas”

Neville nodded jerkily and followed Harry into their usually crowded compartment.

On to fifth year, he supposed wearily. How much could go wrong this year?

* * *

“Please just wait a moment” Neville heard, just before he took the step which would bring him into view around the corner.

He paused. He wasn’t proud of it, but he paused.

The voice sounded frantic. And he knew it, too. _Nitwick, blubber and tweak._

“I need to get to dinner” Another familiar voice said tersely. Neville frowned. He knew for a fact that Harry had just left after having dinner in the great hall with their group.

Dumbledore gave a small sound which could almost be classed as a scoff if it wasn’t coming from their fastidiously benign headmaster “Harry, there are things you must know”

“I’m fine not knowing” A desperate edge to Harry’s voice.

“We must talk—”

“I’m _fine_ not talking”

Dumbledore paused. There was a silence in the corridor.

“Did Sirius teach you occlumency?” The headmaster asked. Neville frowned at the odd subject change.

“No” Harry said, disbelieving laughter in his voice “Don’t try and read my mind, _prof_essor”

Harry said the word ‘professor’ like a curse. Neville frowned. He realised he’d never thought of Dumbledore and Harry in the same sentence. They never interacted. Why did Harry seem so reticent to talk?

“You do not seem keen to be around me” Dumbledore stated, echoing Neville’s thoughts.

Harry was quiet. Then- “I just don’t like authority figures, I suppose”

“And yet you have tea with Minerva each fortnight” Dumbledore said, and Neville could almost imagine the twinkle in his eyes.

Harry paused again “It isn’t anything personal.”

“Ah, my by. I find that usually when we say something isn’t personal, it tends to be terribly so”

“Well” Harry’s voice was a bark “Not this time” Neville heard footsteps and started to back away “I have to go. Nice talk, Professor”

Neville had gotten hardly anyway down the corridor when Harry turned the corner. Harry frowned at him for a moment. “Nev” He said simply.

Neville couldn’t help noticing the curl of Harry’s hair, even though his whole face was scrunched in discomfort.

“Where are you heading?” Harry said, simply.

“Common room” Neville said, even though he had been going to dinner.

Harry nodded tersely. “Come on then”

Neville followed blindly, running the conversation over in his mind with wonder.

* * *

Neville had never been quite sure how he became involved in their tightknit group of seven. He wasn’t really sure how Draco had ended up there, either. Death eaters’ kid as he was. Or strange Luna Lovegood. In fact, the only person who made any sense was Ginny, dragged along by her older brothers’ blood.

Neville had at first spent a lot of time with Ernie, Justin and Hannah who he still studied with from time to time. In fact, Harry had been the one to introduce them. But—but.

But they weren’t Gryffindors. And there was a little- and not really that little at all when you got right to it- part of Neville that missed it, when he wasn’t surrounded by that burning fiery singlemindedness. There was a little part of Neville that couldn’t help finding the Hufflepuffs, well, dull. Not unfriendly, not uninteresting, desperately kind, but no spark. No sharpness.

But how had he made it back to the Gryffindors? Hermione’s kindness? Harry’s oddity?

Neville guessed he slipped in with Ginny and Luna. But by third year he spent more time with Ginny, Luna, Draco and the crazy trio then with the Hufflepuffs. By fourth year it was solidified.

It had been this odd group which had comforted him at the end of last year. Them that he sat with on train journeys. Who always invited him to DA meetings and birthday gatherings and odd games of truth or dare?

It was nice. It was terribly, terribly nice. Neville hadn’t expected it at all.

Neville was bumbling, he knew this. He had been a chubby kid, which meant he was overlooked and teased when he wasn’t and generally disparaged. He was anxious, awkward, ungainly.

Who would ever want to be friends with him?

But somebody did. Harry potter did. So did Ginny, Hermione and the rest.

That had to mean something right?

You couldn’t be a useless, bumbling fool if somebody wanted to be your friend. That had to make you worth something.

* * *

“Come along” Harry said though a yawn, tugging the strap of his bag awkwardly over his shoulder.

It was the second day of classes, but due to having arrived on a Friday they’d been settled days ago. They’d had only a handful of classes on Monday.

“OWL year. Yay” Hermione said, going for sullen but sounding a bit too genuinely excited to fool anyone.

“Oh merlin” Ron shuddered, sharing a look of commiseration with Neville “You’re so lucky, Gin”

Ginny shrugged. She had a free first period so was eating her porridge at a leisurely pace “It’ll be me next year” She left around her spoon “Plus knowing Harry he’ll get exams cancelled”

“I’ve never gotten them cancelled” Harry said with a frown.

“Yeah” Ginny said with a shrug “But something happens in this place, it eventually tracks back to you, you know?”

“She has a point mate” Ron thumped him jovially on the shoulder.

Harry rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Then he led them out of the great hall.

Their first lesson of the day is also their first defence class of the year.

“Wonder what Fleur will be like as a teacher”

“Turn to page _huit_” Ron said in a terribly exaggerated accent.

Hermione giggles, shoving him “I bet she’ll be brilliant”

“She does seem very smart” Neville said quietly “She spent a lot of mentoring time with Tonks”

They all nodded. “Hey” Harry said “We’ll partner this year, eh Nev? Leave the lovebirds to it”

“Oh, shove it” Ron said, going the same colour as his hair. Hermione giggled again, embarrassed.

They hadn’t been as couple-y when at Hogwarts. Meaning Neville hadn’t walked in on them snogging, yet. But they were holding hands a lot- now for instance. Neville and Harry grinned at each other when they both noticed.

They waited outside the classroom, the Gryffindor students in two neat rows along the corridor. They’d done this same dance for so many years now they didn’t need telling anymore, just chatted quietly between themselves and waited for their teacher to summon them into the room.

Fleur did this with the slow swing of the classroom door inwards and a lyrical trill of “Come in!”

They did, filing in one after the other like ducklings. Their quartet took two of the tables at the front, Seamus and Dean behind them. The rest of the class filtered into their seats. Their house’s year was small, due in part to the fact that they were the year born directly into the height of Voldemort’s last reign. Under twenty of them filled the room.

Fleur smiled at them beatifically. She was wearing professor robes like any other, her hair pulled back in a neat bun. She had glasses perched on her nose. Neville wondered if she wore them for effect or out of genuinely impaired vision.

“Bonjour, class” She said. Neville noticed that her accent was less thick and wondered if she had spent the whole summer in England. Her English had always been excellent, however. “My name is Professor Delacour. I am sure you remember me from last year”

She didn’t say this with arrogance, but with a small sure smile. “This year I hope to follow on from the excellent example of your last two Professor’s, who I have been in contact with to assure your education follows an upward trajectory. We have a saying in France ‘Qui n’avance pas, recule’. Who does not move forward, recedes. And in these times, we cannot go backward” Her face was stoic now “We must all be ready for what may come, whatever that is. No recession”

A sombre silence engulfed the classroom, but Professor Delacour broke it with a radiant smile “But we must not always be serious. Over the next few weeks we will be reviewing and expanding your knowledge on counter-curses. Today, a practical” She clapped her hands together and all of the spare tables and chairs flew to the sides of the room “Up, up” She said, and they scrambled to do so “Time to show me your moves, oui?”

Their first lesson, and the many which followed after, proved that though she may be young, Fleur Delacour was astoundingly competent. And terrifyingly good at curses.

* * *

In late September, as Hogwarts was wont to do regularly, all hell broke loose.

It started with the first edition of the Hogwarts Oracle. It’s editors and writers had waited until the end of the month so hat everyone could catch up on their work and prepare for the first edition of the year, but it was anticipated with much impatience. When it was distributed, nary a hand wasn’t clutching a copy across the whole school.

“It’s Barry Blotter” Ron had said smugly “My audience can’t get enough”

Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend “And what is Barry up to this time? Giant snake?”

“Ah, ah” Ron said, waggling his finger mockingly “Poisonous plant. Gotta start my readers off small and build anticipation from there”

Harry shuddered at the mention of a ‘poisonous plant’, but everyone else chuckled. Ron had consulted Neville for that particular edition.

When the distributors finally made it to them, sat as they were at the end of the Gryffindor table against the wall, they had seen many people throwing their heads back in laughter or glued to the pages with rapt interest.

“Luna wrote a piece abut her Vampire theory” Ginny explained, and they all grinned in anticipation. Luna was an excellent writer, but it had to be said that her work got that more interesting when it went completely off the deep end. 

“Strong start to the year” Iphigenia Watts said with a smile, passing them each an edition of the paper. She came to Harry last “I’d worried people would have—"

But she cut herself off suddenly, almost as soon as Harry touched his proffered paper. In fact, everyone in the hall holding a newspaper suddenly froze, the lack of noise in the hall deafening. Neville, who hadn’t touched the paper placed in front of him yet, stared around in shock.

Almost every eye in the hall, including that of teachers and their friends alike, was trained intently on Harry.

Harry shifted ever so slightly, looking nervous “What—?” He began.

Then Iphigenia lunged.

\--

They had made it to a fourth-floor corridor barely scrapped, though it had taken Harry’s extensive knowledge of secret passageways and hidden stairs for them to make it. It wasn’t an easy task, running from an entire boarding school population.

“What- what the hell is wrong with them?” Neville had panted as they hurried up a set of stairs Harry had revealed behind a seemingly ordinary tapestry. He had turned the tapestry to stone behind them, which Neville had been impressed by because they weren’t scheduled to start soft to sold transfigurations until spring that year.

“No idea” Harry had yelled, grabbing Neville’s hand when they reached the end of the stairs and pulling him down the hallway they had entered. At one end of the hall-way shouts could be heard, and the ominous warning of running footsteps.

They almost made it to the end of the corridor when the first crazed student made their way around the end of the corridor they were heading for. A five-foot nothing first-year set Neville’s pulse racing in fear.

They turned about abruptly, but the other end of the hallway was now spilling a bottleneck of frenzied students.

“Passageway?” Neville yelled frantically. Harry’s head whipped around the corridor.

“Shit. Nothing else” The passageway they had came in through was already swarmed by students. “Fuck” Harry yelled passionately. Neville almost scolded him because of the first-year present, but quickly squashed that impulse. “Come on” Harry said, tugging Neville’s hand roughly.

Neville followed him blindly and was pulled into an empty classroom. Neville recognised it as the classroom they had had charms in in second year, before one of Seamus’ explosions had scorched the walls. The scorch marks were still clearly there.

“Harry, they’ll get in” Neville said desperately.

Harry shook his head, lips pursed. He was staring intently at the door, wand held high but no sound coming from his mouth. Finally, the door glowed a soft purple, then sunk into the stone as if it had never been there. Neville gaped.

“Was that—” He couldn’t believe it “Did you just do non-verbal magic?”

Harry shrugged, turning around and tugging a hand through his hair “I do a lot of extra studying” He said. Neville, who had hardly ever seen Harry with a book in his hand that Hermione hadn’t forced there, frowned.

But he let it go for the time being. “What did you do to the door?”

Harry shrugged awkwardly “I got rid of it”

Neville raised an eyebrow “Can you get it back?”

Harry laughed “No, Nev. We’re trapped here forever” He said sarcastically, then he ran a hand over his eyes and sighed “Sorry. Yes. I can get it back. Don’t worry”

“What do you think happened?”

“I guess someone cursed the paper. I’m sure it will wear off eventually” Harry pulled out a scrap of folded parchment from his pocket, dumping his school bag on the floor. Neville had abandoned his in the great hall in the hectic effort of getting Iphigenia, a seventh year, off of Harry’s head.

Neville watched with curiosity as Harry tapped the parchment with his wand and ink unfurled across the paper in shifting patterns. He unfolded it, revealing a much larger piece of parchment.

It was—a map. Neville vaguely remembered catching glances of it before.

Harry watched it intently for a moment. “Look” He gestured for Neville to come closer. Neville watched the map with curiosity—outside of where they were, marked with two dots in a closed off cul-de-sac, was a great crowd of students, filling up the hallway outside and spilling out across the near by ones as well. The rest of the school was practically empty, with only a single dot or groups of two scattered around the castle. They had completely barricaded them in.

“I hope no one gets hurt” Neville said quietly, thinking of the manic in the student’s eyes and the crushing crowd he could see.

Harry nodded pensively. He sighed, discarding his bag on the floor. He dragged a dusty chair out from under an abandoned desk and sat on it backwards, chin in hand.

Neville followed suit, giving Harry a wry smile “S’pose we’ve got a bit of a wait, then”

Harry sighed deeply again “I just love my life” He said sarcastically.

Neville wondered if the enchanted student body was intended to kill Harry. Then he thought how surreal it must be to be Harry Potter, with people caring about your existence enough to try and end it. “This is crazy” Neville muttered.

“It’s life” Harry said drily.

Neville snorted “Your life. Mine’s normal”

“Is it?” Harry said with disbelief, then winced.

Neville shrugged awkwardly “You know” He murmured, pointlessly. “I mean”

“I know what you meant. Sorry” Harry muttered “I was just thinking…” Harry paused “About your parents”

Neville jerked unexpectedly, even though he logically knew that Harry must know about it. It was just that he’d never talked about it to any of his classmates, many of them entirely unaware why it was that Neville lived with his Grandma in the first place. “Did Sirius tell you?”

Harry shook his head “He wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry I brought it up”

“But you know what happened to them?” Neville said, his voice hoarse and slightly demanding.

Harry shifted awkwardly, fiddling with the prefect pin on his robes. He’d tried not wearing it for he first few weeks, until McGonagall yelled at him. Now it was something he often fiddled with, and always took off as soon as he could. It was as if the badge was a virus Harry’s body was violently rejecting. “I do. I’m sorry”

Neville was silent for a long moment. He wondered how Harry knew. Had he read about it in one of the books about the war? The incident was often referred to as the last event of the Wizarding War. Or had he looked it up in the Newspaper archives contained in the Library? It did seem like something Harry would do. Unable as he was to let anything go.

“I guess you get it” Neville whispered, not being able to look at Harry.

“I don’t get it at all” Harry said sharply, and Neville looked up at him with surprise. “What your family went through- what you went through- Neville it was horrific. I say sorry” Harry scoffed “Like that means anything. My parents died senselessly, but at least—” He stops again, mouth pursed with unsaid words “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine the pain”

Neville stares at Harry, speechless. The two were friends, of course, but never before had Harry been so honest or emotional with him. Neville imagined that when Harry got emotional like this, he went to Draco or Ron. Hermione maybe.

“I—yes. It’s horrible” Neville said, but his voice remained steady with the shock of Harry’s passion. “But my parents are still here. I love them, I know they love me. And I can see them. I wouldn’t trade them for anything”

Harry nodded, looking at the floor. “I suppose we all look at other people and think we have it better. I guess we all just—know the pain we have”

“And get scared of pain we don’t” Neville said softly.

They stayed silent for a while after that, two boys whose families had been torn apart by a war they were too young to remember. Harry thinking of green eyes and a kind man casting lights into the air to make a baby laugh. Neville thinking of sweet wrappers and stories of intense bravery and competence he could never hop to replicate.

Eventually, Neville dug into his bag to find a pack of cards. Harry taught him a muggle game called “cheat”.

* * *

At first, all eyes looked to Pansy Parkinson. When Harry and Neville had finally been allowed to leave, due to the crowd on the map thinning, Snape had already dragged her off for questioning. Well, Neville supposed it made sense. Slytherins weren’t exactly the house known for loyalty.

But when Neville and Harry had been brought in to shed light, she’d scowled at everyone in the room fiercely “Why would I jeopardise the oracle? I spend half my time on that thing”

It was true. It was widely known that Pansy had been groomed to take over from Iphigenia and Kassandra when they graduated, with Ginny Weasley as her second in charge.

“It wasn’t Pansy” Harry said with an eyeroll and a sure voice. Neville looked at him sideways with disbelief. He wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t the intimidating Slytherin girl, who constantly scowled or smirked at everything in her path.

“Just because I was in charge of printing this edition doesn’t mean it was me. The editor always looks over it before it’s released, as well you know. Where’s Iphigenia? Why haven’t you pulled her in” She looked around at the teachers and students in the room, her scowl intensifying “My family isn’t even tied to dark magic”

That was another truth. Although the Parkinson’s were classically Slytherin, they were a young-money family. Their business was in parchment production.

Harry laughed lightly “She has a point. You can’t just blame her because she’s a Slytherin” Pansy looked put out to be defended by Harry, and Snape looked furious at the implication.

“And who do you think is responsible, Potter?” He snarled, lips curling over his gums.

Harry shrugged “Obviously it was an imperious. Then whoever was imperiused cast the spell on the papers and it was triggered when I touched one of the editions”

Snape frowned at him “Proof?”

“Logic” Harry drawled back. A vein jumped in Snape’s forehead. Neville winced, shrinking back into the wall.

“He has a point, Severus” McGonigal murmured. She had been silent previously, probably still embarrassed by the near perfect swan-dive she had performed getting down from the staff table and into the crowds of people attacking Harry. Apparently, she liked to read the paper. She was amused by Luna’s ridiculous takes on everything.

“Hm” Snape scowled “Parkinson, back to the common room. Someone go fetch Miss. Watts”

Harry and Neville both happily left on the quest to get Iphigenia. They found her sitting alone on the entrance hall stairs, looking dazed off into the distance.

“Definitely Imperius” Harry said grimly, as if he had seen cases of it before. “Poor girl”

“Will she get in trouble?” Neville asked quietly, bending down to slip on arm under her shoulder and heave her up to standing position.

“It wasn’t her fault” Harry said, sighing and doing the same on her other side “I’ll make sure they don’t do anything idiotic. She won’t get in trouble”

They began to make their way back to Snape’s office, both grim in the face of the day’s events. Watching the entire student body from elf-sized first years to pre-caffeine frazzled seventh year’s desperately chase after Harry had had an absurd comedy to it, but it hadn’t been anything close to funny. Not with the dazed emptiness in their eyes as they followed them mindlessly.

It was only another reminder of the war closing in on them, nipping at their heels more and more every day.

* * *

_Dear Harry (and Nev if you can pass this along to him)_

_We got back from Mumbai this morning. Seven countries in three weeks! God the Portkey-office hated us. But you only get a honeymoon once, hey? (That is unless Remus divorces me. Or kills me. That seems more and more likely every day I leave the coffee mugs on the side without rinsing them) _

_We almost didn’t go, what with everything. Molly convinced us in the end, if you can believe it. Did you know Arthur and she missed out on their honeymoon because of the last war? She says she’s regretted it ever since. If we didn’t go, it would just be a win to old snake-face. _

_How’s school? We got a letter about the Oracle trouble, but they seemed to be playing it down. Had to stop Remus from storming in right then. We got the real story from Tonks, who got it from your Professor Delacour. Apparently the two are close, who knew? Anyway, it sounded troubling, but unfortunately nothing you can’t handle. That poor seventh year. What was her name again? Something from mythology? Make sure she doesn’t blame herself too badly. I was imperiused in the war, managed only to get me to swap all the cutlery to silver before your dad noticed and whacked me right out of it. _

_It’s all hey-ho on the home-front. Mad-eye has all of us, the people he trusts from now and from the first war, meeting a lot to reassess. I think they’ll restart the order soon, but Moony isn’t sure. _

_Anyway, keep me up to date. Keep safe. _

_Neville, tell us how school is. Don’t stress to much about OWL work and remember you have your very own home-grown professor at home and me too, and I’m not too shabby when it comes down to it. No need to doubt yourself. Tell us how that new species of Moonseed is looking. Remus is deadly interested. Thinking about you lots. _

_Love Padfoot, and Moony. _

_P.s don’t forget to have some fun! You’re only fifteen once. _

Harry laughed loudly as he came to the end of the letter, but when he passed it on to Neville, Neville couldn’t see what was so funny.

Harry could be so strange.

* * *

Harry informed them all that the Minister was paying a lot closer attention to the school’s actions this year, that they’d almost had Fleur kicked out in favour of a ministry puppet.

“But it was agreed centuries ago that the Headmaster or mistress always gets the final say on faculty” Hermione said, even though she still looked worried “I read it in—”

“Hogwarts: A History” Ron finished, giving her a teasing smile. Hermione gave him a half-hearted scowl.

“Ugh. Even when you’re bullying her it’s sickeningly cute” Ginny said, making an exaggerated face of disgust. 

They were in the room of requirement, which currently had changed to a perfect blend of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor common rooms, with cosy chairs and a fireplace but shelves of books lining the walls. The blue and red was slightly clashing, however.

“You orchestrated this” Neville said, laughing and nudging Ginny in the side. He, Ginny and Luna were all squashed together on one sofa, with Ron and Hermione in another and Draco and Harry each curled up in separate armchairs.

“Don’t I regret it” She bemoaned loudly. Ron chucked a pillow at her head, then looked desperately sorry when it accidentally hit a bemused looking Luna.

“We would have gotten together eventually” Ron muttered, chagrined.

Harry made an odd noise in his throat “Probably would have taken you longer than you think”

Hermione and Ron looked at each other in surprise, assessing. It had been only a few months and yet Neville couldn’t imagine them not together.

It was almost Halloween now, and they had decided to crowd together on this Friday night to take a break from schoolwork. And from the news which every day seemed to be filled more and more with horrible ‘unexplained’ attacks and deaths.

Of course, they were already talking about the situation.

“Can’t imagine not having Fleur” Ron said considering, Ginny nodded vigorously.

“Yes she’s an excellent teacher” Hermione said, looking far off “But I suppose this begs the question; what are they doing instead to track us?”

None of them answered, each of them deep in thought.

“Would they monitor the post?” Neville said quietly.

“That would be terrible” Luna murmured. Worry always looked out of place on Luna’s face. She never seemed to worry about anything at all.

Harry shook his head, but he didn’t look certain “I’m not sure. Would Bones do that? She’s accepted that he’s back, told everyone to prepare”

“Yeah but the more conservative powers-that-be are making sure it doesn’t spread much. They don’t want people to take it seriously. It doesn’t benefit them” Draco said, thoughtful “And there are a lot of people with power who don’t like Minister Bones”

“Especially those in power with active death eater sympathies” Hermione said, looking at Draco cautiously “Sorry Draco”

He just shook his head, dismissing it. “Why won’t Dumbledore just cooperate with the ministry? Then Bones wouldn’t have to get underhanded”

“He likes to work alone?” Neville suggested.

“He likes to be the one in charge” Harry murmurs darkly. They all glanced at each other, well aware of Harry’s illogical bias against Dumbledore. Something he had never explained, and which had never made sense.

“Have you talked to him, Harry?” Hermione asked, her hands fretting.

Harry shrugged “He’s talked to me. He wants to restart the Order”

“What’s the Order?” Ginny asked, frowning. Neville was glad she’d been the one to ask.

“It’s like, a resistance group for the good side” Harry explained, waving his hands in the air awkwardly “They had it in the last war. All our parents were part of it” He scrunched his nose up “Well, apart from yours, of course, Draco”

“Of course” Draco drawled.

“Do you think we should start making DA meetings regular again?” Ron asked.

DA meetings only took place sometimes, usually for fun things like muggle movie nights or get-togethers. It wasn’t as needed when their teachers were consistently good.

“But we like Fleur” Hermione said, frowning in confusion.

“Yeah. But Defence isn’t exactly” Ron frowned, as if searching for the right word. Lamely he finished “Att_ack_. We need to be prepared. The younger students especially” He looked at Harry “It will come for them too. It’s horrible, but we can’t pretend we’re all normal students anymore”

“The war won’t come to Hogwarts” Draco said with certainty.

Harry shook his head “No. Ron’s right. We need to make the meetings weekly again. Even if it doesn’t come to Hogwarts” He paused “We need to be ready, wherever it is”

Neville sighed, leaving forward to pluck a box off of the coffee table “Remember when we said a relaxing Friday night with no war talk?” He held the box up “Cluedo, anyone?”

* * *

They were at breakfast when Neville got the news. He felt his heart stop in his chest, felt it beat violently against his ribs the moment after. His throat felt suddenly to prevalent in his body, shrivelling up and expanding at the same time.

** _Bellatrix Lestrange found dead in her cell!_**

The prophet screamed from the first page. Neville’s jam-laden knife clattered to the tabletop, sending a blob of jam onto Ron’s nose. But Ron was silent too, gaping at the newspaper.

Bellatrix Lestrange was dead. Dead. She had tortured Neville’s parents and haunted his dreams his whole life and yet—and yet she had died in her cell, locked away. All alone.

Was this what joy felt like? Or terror?

What if--?

“You don’t think it’s a ministry cover-up, do you?” Ginny asked giddily, completely unaware of Bellatrix’ significance.

“No” Harry said harshly. Neville looked at him in surprise. He looked oddly determined, but also slightly green. “She’s dead”

“Harry” Hermione said, in an odd, strangled tone. She was staring at Harry with horror. Ron was looking at Harry, too. They both looked like they ahd seen a ghost.

“How did she die?” Ginny said with interest, grabbing the paper and unfolding it to read. “Oo. Says they think an assassin broke in. Wonder who wanted her dead?”

“Lots of people wanted her dead” Neville croaked. Harry’s gaze jerked from his two best friends to look at Neville.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently.

Neville nodded jerkily, pushing back the bench so he could stand up. “I’m going to go—lie down”

“But we have Herbology” Hermione began with surprise.

“It’s fine” Harry said “Hope you feel better Nev. “

Neville nodded, leaving Harry with his two oddly behaving best friends and a confused Ginny.

How were you meant to feel when all of your wishes came true? However, it was, Neville and imagined it would feel better than as if his stomach had dropped into his legs.

He went to his bed, closing his curtains. He didn’t emerge until the next morning.

* * *

November passed without much ceremony, though it couldn’t exactly be described as calm. Although had any of the months of his Hogwarts life been calm? No, not possible. This was Neville. This was _Hogwarts._

Bowtruckles left scars on Neville’s left hand (and Hermione’s right kneecap. Though she had been more annoyed about the ripped pair of tights.), Europa, Callisto and Ganymedes refused to show up for him when he tried charting them, Summoning charms had left so many books flying straight at Neville’s head he had begun to worry about compacted head injuries (he took a book about muggle medicine out of the library) and his dream interpretations were so terrible his creative writing talents were being exercised more than his third-eye ever would be.

And on top of all that, Harry and Ron refused to stop yacking at him about quidditch despite the first match going swimmingly.

It was a strange time, for sure, when his only solace were the rather boring Chinese Chomping Cabbages in greenhouse three.

Not to mention, he was getting really sick of walking into rooms and having everyone go silent. One day he would figure out what the hell Hermione, Ron and Harry found it so pertinent to shut up about as quickly as they did.

* * *

It was mid-December and Neville was still riding high off of the letter he’d recently received confirming, because he hadn’t been sure, that Sirius and Remus expected him back for Christmas break.

He walked down the transfiguration corridor happily, swinging his arms lazily. He’s done all of his schoolwork and was frankly looking forward to doing absolutely nothing at all for the evening. Before, he was sure, they were assigned a mountain of holiday homework the next day. Merlin, OWLS year was exhausting. The pep in his step began to drain slightly as he thought about it. He knew he would surely fail at least one of them. Potions? Transfiguration? Both? He’d fail and then his grandmother would look down from heaven and really, really hate him. He thought of his parents’ results, which his grandmother had kept framed and hung up in the conservatory so she could look at them with pride on sunny afternoons. Straight O’s. A single, lonely E for his mother’s divination.

He would be lucky to get more than the one O he was guaranteed in Herbology.

The thoughts swirled in his head, making him frown, and they had almost moved on to full existential dread mode when—

Harry and Ron burst out of a tapestry, giggling. Hermione followed at a more sedate pace, rolling her eyes.

“And _then_ he said, ‘that’s not _my_ dragon’ and—” Ron was saying loudly, hands flying in gesticulation. He paused when he noticed Harry had stopped. Harry had stopped abruptly when he saw Neville standing there.

“Oh” Hermione said, coming up next to them “Hi Nev”

“We were just going to the kitchens” Harry said, rubbing the crown of his head. Neville wondered how he got away with half the things he did, terrible liar as he was.

“Oh” Neville said slowly “Okay”

The three troublemakers all steadfastly looked anywhere but at Neville, feet shifting.

“Alright” Neville said, when they said nothing else “See you later?”

“Hm hmm” Hermione said with a high pitch, nodding frantically, the they all sped past Neville, as if he were an errant rock diverting their stream in two.

Neville turned slowly and watched them scamper off, frowning. Then he turned back and looked at the tapestry with suspicion.

Should he-? No. But—would it hurt to just see? What was the worst thing they could be hiding? A vicious book full of hateful comments about him? Surely, they were too nice for that.

And, well, Neville was _bored_. Bored of finding them and having heavy silences descend on the room. Of knowing they had a secret but not knowing what it was. 

It couldn’t hurt. Just to go up through the tapestry. It would be a shortcut, wither way. And if he found some clue, some errant piece of evidence- Well. That was only a secondary benefit.

Neville pushed the tapestry aside, revealing a staircase going up a few metres. He twisted his head slightly, looking up at the slightly curved stairway. There, about halfway up, was a doorway.

Had they been in there before they left for the ‘kitchens’, if that’s where they truly went?

Neville started up, his footsteps too loud on the stone. His blood pounded in his ears. Why was he so nervous? Harry, Hermione and Ron were school children. It wasn’t as if he were about to walk into a secret lair of- of what? Children’s bones? Mad experiments? Plans to overthrow the government?

He came to a stop in front of the door, which was plain in every single way. His hand rested on the doorknob. A quick turn and he would—

The doorknob wouldn’t budge. He frowned at it. Then, he pulled his wand out. In for a sickle, in for a galleon. He was a Gryffindor after all. Son of two war heroes.

“Alohomora” He said, not exactly expecting that to work. When it didn’t, he wracked his brains for the counter-spell to colloportus. Then, he casted that too.

The door gave a click. He twisted the doorknob, pushing the wood door in. It swung open and behind it was—

An empty room. Had they even been in here? Or was this just an old storage room, locked in past times and forgotten?

He frowned, walking into the room a few steps. There was only one window, a long narrow one at the very top of the far wall. Hardly any light streamed in. He casted a lumos. Then he trailed the light of his wand slowly about the room.

At first he couldn’t see anything, except for dust-motes and old chalk. Then he noticed that the dust had been cleared in some places on the floor and desks. As if they had been touched or sat upon recently.

Finally, his wand alighted on something, something under a desk. He shot forward, falling to his knees. Two tiny clouds of dust appeared where his knees fell. He leant forward, reaching his hand out and grabbing what was under the desk.

A small bundle of parchment. When he unfolded it, he realised it was a larger piece of parchment cradling some smaller scraps.

He frowned, placing his wand on the desk so that it would illuminate the pages. He picked up one of the pieces of scrap paper. In Hermione’s, and it must have been Hermione’s, handwriting it was scrawled _‘polyjuice? Done it before apparently’ _then later in a different colour of ink a note had been added ‘_too timely?’._

Neville frowned, then shifted that scrap to the floor. The next was in the same handwriting. A list of opening and closing times for some business, though it hadn’t been named. Next to Sunday had been written in someone’s cramped hand, maybe Ron’s or Harry’s, _‘only open half day, good time?’. _

Neville placed that one on the floor, too. The next thing was a muggle photograph, still and unmoving. It was of the east end of Diagon alley, Gringott’s in centre. Heart racing, Neville picked up the last smaller piece of parchment.

On it had been drawn a diagram of a cart. Just like the goblin-driven carts you had to get into every time you went a Gringotts vault. In the corner Hermione had scribbled an appreciative _‘good one!’_. Neville assumed Ron must have drawn it, then. He turned the paper over. On the back was a list of names, a long slash of black ink drawn through them all. At the bottom Hermione had written ‘_we aren’t naming it!_’ in spiky letters.

But the list wasn’t entirely obscured. Neville could make out some key phrases.

“_The Great Goblin One-up  
Heist of The Century  
Harry and The Boys At It Again   
The Golden Heist  
The Great Dragon Rescue of ‘95” _

Neville gaped, then he slowly placed the drawing on the floor pile and took in the bigger sheet of parchment.

It was, quiet clearly, a blueprint. Of Gringotts Bank.

Neville had mistakenly come across a few things in his life. First, his grandmother’s underwear drawer. There were just certain things about your grandmother you weren’t meant to know. What her underwear looked like was one of them.

Then had been his stored-away wand, summer of first year. Hole in the kitchen wall and his grandma torn between furiousness and pride.

A photo of his parents on their graduation day, laughing. Too much for a heart to handle.

Now, this. An obvious and entirely worrying plan to—

Neville heard the footsteps too late. By the time he heard the turn of the doorknob and the muttered voice he had only managed to pick up his neat pile and stuff it back into the blueprint. When he turned around, he was still holding them.

“They’ll be in here it’s fine” Hermione was saying as the door swung open, talking over her shoulder. Then she stepped inside and her head swivelled around. Her eyes locked on him. She stopped dead. Harry and Ron were frozen behind her in the doorway.

“Are you planning to rob Gringotts” Neville asked, holding their plans. He hoped desperately that they would say no and explain the papers to him.

Instead, Harry softly closed the door, approaching Neville like a spooked deer.

“Neville” He said, about to utter the three worst words in existence for someone with weak nerves “We can explain”

Hermione, Ron and Harry were in fact planning on breaking into Gringotts.

But it was okay, they told him, they were doing it for a ‘good reason’_._

“You don’t actually expect me to believe that, do you?” Neville said, because he was a pushover out of choice and not natural inclination.

Hermione winced slightly “Well it would be really helpful if you did”

“What are you going to do, tell the Aurors?” Ron asked with false arrogance.

Neville shrugged “No. but I will tell Dumbledore” He frowned “Actually, scratch that. I’ll tell Ginny”

“Oh God” Hermine said, her face drained of colour “Please don’t tell Ginny”

“She will not accept another random adventure under ‘no explanation’” Harry said, face in hands.

“And she’ll tell mum” Ron whispered, face green around the edges.

“No. no it’s worse than that” Hermione said, looking traumatised “She’ll make us _take her along_”

“I love your sister, mate” Harry croaked “But there is literally no one in the world I am more afraid of and we are literally facing off against a dark lord”

Ron shuddered.

“All right, all right” Neville said, eyebrows raised “She’s not Grindelwald”

“The questions. The cutting remarks” Hermione moaned.

“The things she knows” Ron cried.

“I won’t tell Ginny! I won’t tell Ginny, merlin” The three of them all relaxed as one. Neville frowned “Under one condition”

They all froze again, looking at him warily.

“I want to be involved” Neville said, calmly.

“You want to help us rob Gringotts?” Harry said with confusion.

“Yeah. Or whatever it is your doing” Neville said, unmoving.

“You can’t” Hermione said immediately “We can’t tell you—”

“You don’t have to tell me the reason behind it or any of your secrets. Believe me I’ve walked in on you enough to know that you have about a million of those” They looked at each other guiltily “You don’t have to tell me the bigger picture”

“So you’ll rob a bank without making us tell you a thing?” Ron said dubiously.

“You have to tell me what we’re getting. And where from” Neville said firmly.

“We can’t—” Harry said, shaking his head.

But Hermione cut him off “We’re getting a cup. It’s a Hufflepuff artefact” She looked at Neville steadily “And we’re stealing it from the Lestrange vault”

Neville let out a small breath. The only question permeating his mind was a blaring repetition of why, why, why. But he’d promised he wouldn’t ask.

“But she’s dead. The Lestrange family line is extinct” Neville pointed out.

“Right” Ron nodded “And when a bloodline is apparently dead it takes the ministry about six months to assess closest blood relations, to wait for an unexpected claim to appear—and then it all becomes Ministry property”

“So, we have until April” Neville said, nodding.

“That’s when we’re going to do it. Easter break”

“Cutting it close” Neville said, frowning.

“April is statistically Gringotts least busy month” Hermione said, shrugging.

“So why have you ruled out Polyjuice? You have the time”

“The Thief’s Downfall. It’s a protection for the lower vaults. Strips all charms and enchantments from you. Potion’s as well”

Neville nodded, frowning in thought. “All right so we’re going to have to figure that out”

The three conspirators shared one final look of conspiracy, then Harry sighed, taking the satchel off of Hermione’s shoulder and pulling out the contents.

“All right this is what we have so far”

* * *

Christmas break started odd and gets stranger from there.

Only Sirius greets them all at the station. Even Draco, who had calmly pretended not to know them at all and walked over to kiss his terrifying mother on the cheek without so much as a goodbye (as he had done every year before), looked over at them in confusion.

The extended Weasley bunch, Hermione and Neville all stared at Harry’s guardian with confusion.

“Where’s mum?” Fred or George said, frowning.

“You’re all coming back to mine, anyway. I got sent as the pick-up party” Sirius said. Neville noticed he looked tense.

“Is Mr. Weasley--?” Harry began, white faced.

Sirius frowned at him “What? No. Everyone’s fine. Extended Weasley bunch, Arthur and Molly are at mine too.” He sighed and muttered under his breathe “And another dozen people on top of that”

He looked at Hermione “You still at ours, this year?” Hermione nodded “Well I’m afraid that also means you’ll be living at the headquarters for the—”

He stopped, looking around. “Nevermind. I’ll explain in the car”

All seven of them followed behind him as he led them to King’s Cross carpark. He stopped in front of a regular green three-door car.

“That better be extended” Fred or George said pessimistically.

“You can fight between yourselves for the front” Sirius said with false cheer.

* * *

It turned out that Grimmauld place was now the headquarters for the reformed ‘Order of The Phoenix’. A resistance group founded by Dumbledore in the last war.

Sirius was right about the people. The dining room table, usually so long you could reenact scenes from Beauty and the Beast on it, was now positively overcrowded. Molly Weasley sat in the middle, furiously shelling peas.

She smiled at them when they all awkwardly filed in “Oh, hello dears”, standing up and bustling past the now silent room.

“Sirius, you should have sent them upstairs” Dumbledore said, frowning.

“Oopsie” Sirius said, not looking apologetic at all.

Remus and Arthur also pushed their way over, hugging their respective kids et al. Remus hugged Neville tightly.

“Sorry about all this” He said to the whole group of them over Neville’s shoulder.

“Yeah” Sirius sighed “The twins you’ll share, then the fifth-year boys in Harry’s room. Sorry. Hermione and Ginny can have Reg’s old room”

“We’re staying here” Fred or George frowned “What’s wrong with home?”

“It’s safer not to be flooing back and forth” Molly said, stroking Ginny’s hair lovingly. “I have old Mr. Tremel looking in on the chickens for us”

All seven of the ‘kids’ looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Apart from Harry, that was.

Harry was looking at Dumbledore with a look that could only be described as a glare.

“Why do you have to meet here?” Harry asked sharply, in a loud enough voice that he couldn’t be mistaken for only talking to their small group. Everybody looked at him, then. Though many of them had already been staring at him beforehand.

“Harry—” Remus said weakly.

“Harry, my boy” Dumbledore said in a tone that was just south of friendly “We have important business”

“I know” Harry said coldly “The prophecy. It’s useless”

The room, if possible, went even quieter. Dumbledore’s expression didn’t change per se, but Neville noticed that his eyes widened slightly.

“Ah. It seems you know more than I thought” He looked at Sirius and Remus accusingly.

“We didn’t tell him” Sirius said, looking like he enjoyed this a bit too much.

“Seriously, we didn’t” Remus concurred, frowning at Harry.

“The prophecy’s pointless. Blah blah blah, I have to defeat Voldemort, blah blah blah”

“How do you know what it says?” Dumbledore frowned.

Harry looked a little bit wrong-footed for a moment, and then he straightened again. “Trawlawney told me”

“I wasn’t aware Sybil remembered her prophecy’s”

“Well lucky us she remembered this one” Harry stared Dumbledore down, the both of them unwavering in their gazes. “Take the guard off the prophecy room. It’s useless. Let Voldemort get at it”

“I can’t do that” Dumbledore said, softly.

“You should. It isn’t a weapon. All it says is that the one to defeat the dark lord could have been any baby born in July with ballsy parents, and Voldemort picked me”

“That isn’t all of it” Dumbledore snapped.

“Yeah, yeah. ‘The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives’” Harry said this all in a bored tone, as if he were reading a weather report.

“You don’t think that is important?” Dumbledore said, slightly incredulous. Neville had never seen the headmaster show so much emotion.

“Prophecies are only true if you believe they are” Harry said harshly “Voldemort believes it’s true, so he targets me. That’s all”

“And the power you have?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry shrugged “The power I have is a willingness to die for people I love. That’s it”

Dumbledore assessed Harry languidly, his whole body relaxed apart from his intense blue eyes. “Love is the most powerful thing in the world”

“Yes” Harry said simply “But it doesn’t have anything to do with that prophecy”

Dumbeldore was silent a long while after that, simply staring at Harry. Then he turned away, as if to talk to Professor McGonagall next to him. She was staring between the student and headmaster in astonishment. “Sirius, Remus. Please take the children upstairs and come back so we can continue the meeting”

Remus began to usher them all out into the hallway. But Harry and Sirius remained standing.

Neville had just been pushed into the hallway when Sirius spoke. “Harry’s right, Albus” His voice was chilly “And I can’t believe this whole endeavour was over a prophecy saying my godson has to die”

Then he stormed out of the room, Harry following icily on his heels.

* * *

“How the hell do you know this stuff?” Ginny said, from the foot of Harry’s bed. They had all crowded into Harry’s room to ostensibly transfigure two extra beds. In actuality they had all sprawled across the room to discuss the events of the kitchen.

Except the twins. The twins were apparating back and forth across the room with vigour. Neville could see Hermione’s jaw already beginning to twitch.

“I’m Psychic” Harry said, at the same time Hermione said “Dumb-luck” and Ron said “We’re governmentally trained spies”

“Why would we be governmentally trained spies if the government is who we’re spying on?” Hermione said, looking at her boyfriend with judgement, Ron just shrugged, going back to throwing Harry’s stuffed quaffel cushion into the air.

“I hate you three” Ginny sighed.

“So what?” Fred said, appearing next to Harry’s armoire. “They’re just running the ‘defeat Voldemort’ program from Sirius’ kitchen”

“Will Sirius let them do it here anymore?” Neville said doubtfully.

“Remus will convince him too” Harry sighed “he still feels he has a debt to Dumbles”

“It all seems pretty… home-spun” George said, appearing next to the wardrobe. Neville could only tell them apart because they’d slipped Weasley jumpers with their initials on. Then again, he had no idea if they were wearing the right one.

The one wearing ‘F’ in fuchsia nodded “I thought it would be a bigger operation”

“It is” Harry shrugged “There’s informants and members all over the wizarding world. This is just Dumbledore’s inner circle”

“How can you—” George frowned. Ginny held up he hand.

“Don’t ask. Just take it” She sighed. 

“Well I don’t like it” Harry huffed.

“You don’t like the resistance to a man who wants you dead?” Ginny said, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t trust Dumbledore” Harry shrugged.

The rest of them exchanged glances, mouths pursed in confused frowns.

“Never mind” Harry sighed “Lets just transfigure the beds”

* * *

Christmas was a strange affair, then. Odd days of sitting sequestered in one of the bedrooms or trapped outside in the yard.

Hermione and Ginny only took a few days of this before they were ushering the others out. Fred and George tasked first in trying to apparate them to muggle London.

“Will the wards go off?” Hermione asked Harry curiously.

“I’m leaning towards yes” Harry said, with the same academic voice “But one must exhaust all possibilities”

Fred sighed, rolling his eyes “If I die for you—” But he apparated anyway.

A moment later a clear voice rang out in a screech “Fred Gideon Weasley what are you doing?”

“Let’s take that as a failure” George said, stifling a laugh. Fred came trudging up the stairs ten minutes later, looking appropriately beaten down.

“Told her I’m just shit at apparating and missed the drawing room. Not exactly my proudest moment”

“Well” Hermione said lightly “Breaking out the old-fashioned way it is.

And they did, sneaking out the back way under cleverly timed distractions. It was easy to deceive people when they were expecting you do use magic and you didn’t, Neville was finding.

They trailed about in one cluster, Hermione and Harry leading them like ruffled ducks. They loitered in record shops and laughed as Fred and George pawed their way through vintage 70’s jackets in a myriad of disgustingly clashing shades.

Fred picked up a frankly sickening purple and orange one giddily “Hey, George what about--?” and then they were off in the corner talking in excited whispers. Neville left to listen to Hermione and Ginny dissect a pretty floral dress.

They went out once in the evening to see the Christmas lights and decorations.

“It isn’t magic” Harry said with a shrug “But it’s certainly something to see”

Neville had been impressed, and he and Ron had tried to ask Hermione to explain how it all worked but gave up soon on understanding. Neville wished Creevey was here with his camera.

Harry seemed excited to pull Neville along everywhere, especially. “Can’t believe you’ve lived in London your whole life and never been to the muggle parts” He scolded in disbelief.

“I’ve been to king’s cross” Neville said, in defence.

“Yeah but only to go somewhere magical” Harry laughed, and tugged Neville’s hand down a row of stacked records. “Come on. Let’s get Sirius and Remus something”

They left the shop with a bag groaning under the weight of _Nico_ and _The Kinks_ and _Joni Mitchell_. A _Nina Simone_ just for Remus to salivate over. Harry made Neville buy a record too, for himself.

“Look, Draco would be proud of you expanding your repertoire” Harry excused, but Neville thought suddenly that Harry was simply caught up in the magic of Christmas and in their own freedom. Happy to be here and wanting Neville to be happy too.

Neville was happy. Never had he had so much attention showered simply on him. Harry seemed insistent on singling Neville out for their own private adventures in every shop they entered, dragging him to odd corners while the twins and Ginny schemed, and the lovebirds held ribbons up to match each other’s eyes or whatever it was they did. He felt buoyant with it all. Liable to float away into the sky.

The record Harry picked out was black, with a sepia toned image of a non-descript man. “Here, Songs of Leonard Cohen. Perfect”

Neville had expected something modern “This is from when our parents were kids” He pointed out sceptically.

Harry grinned wildly “Leonard never goes out of style”

It wasn’t the record Neville had expected. But from the first note of Suzanne he was fixed, lying on the shag-pile next to Remus’ ancient record player.

In and between their little adventures was stuffed two other things. First, a harried effort from the adults to fit Christmas cheer and tradition around their own busy schedules of meetings and scouting missions. Second, the plan.

The plan came together in increments. With Hermione practically abusing Kreacher with the amount of times she asked him politely to discreetly bring her more tea.

“I thought you were all about elf rights” Ron had joked but had been silenced by Hermione’s crazed eyes as she glared at him over the rim of an overflowing mug of frankly terrifyingly strong tea.

(Harry took a sip of it when she left the room and gagged. “You could stand something up on that stuff”)

It was an odd Christmas, but the best he could remember. On Christmas day Remus and Sirius took him to Mungos, Harry politely standing beside him without speaking much except to say a polite hello to Neville’s parents.

“Here” Remus said softly as his mum stared at Sirius with a blank curiosity and he chatted away ta her “We looked through some of your grandmothers’ things”

Neville took the brown envelope delicately. When he slipped the close open, he pulled out a small bundle of photographs. He pulled them out with the back showing. They had been dated in an inky scrawl ‘25/12/81’

There was only five photos, two of them blurry from a shaky camera, but Neville cried over them anyway. His mums smiling face as she held a chubby baby. His dad’s proud grin and blazing eyes.

Harry squeezed his shoulders and never brought it up again. Neville was grateful.

* * *

An odd change came over Dumbledore after they came back for the next term. Or at least, Neville noticed him far more.

“He’s keeping a close eye on me” Harry explained snidely when he was twenty minutes late to a meeting for The Plan “I swear he’s trailing me”

Neville imagined old professor Dumbledore sneaking around corners and couldn’t hold back a giggle.

“Well” Harry amended blushing “Obviously _he_ isn’t. But someone”

“Draco asked me where I was going, again” Hermione said, her voice pinched.

Harry just scowled. Ron looked tense. Neville kept his head down and didn’t ask.

Neville wasn’t as close to Draco as the other three were, but he was a good friend when Neville had needed it. He was the reason, Neville was sure, that the Slytherins had left him completely alone since second year.

He wondered desperately, as he had before, why the fourth member of the odd quartet had not been allowed into the inner circle.

But the deal had been that Neville wasn’t to know more than necessary.

Neville had been placed on disguise duty, while Harry focused on protective charms, Ron on strategy and Hermione fluttered madly between them all with biting critique and organisation.

He had found a plant called Dolus Seed which had been known to withstand a version of a fool’s downfall (a common safety measure across the wizarding world) in Germany. Dolus seed tricked other’s into seeing you when you weren’t there and could be powdered and thrown into the eyes of security guards so that they saw you in front of them even when you weren’t there.

“But does it work on goblins?” Hermione fretted, and Neville hadn’t had an answer.

Hypnos weed was another option. Another powder that could be blown into a persons face which would cause them to fall asleep. But only for up to ten minutes, at most.

“And that’s only the longest recorder, not the usual. I’d say we would have seven minutes” Neville shrugged.

“We’d have to be quick” Ron said.

“But we could use it just for when we’re in the vault” Harry said, frowning.

“Keep looking” Hermione said, and Neville nodded, turning back to his book of uncommon plants.

“We could learn Therianthropy” Neville sighed, one afternoon. They were all stressed because they had decided to move the plan up to the end of March. The first Sunday of the Easter Holidays. (“Then we can spend the rest of term revising. You know. After we rob a bank” Hermione had said)

“I won’t pretend to know what that is” Ron said.

“It’s sport of like being an Animagus” Neville said, frowning as he read “Except not as permanent”

“How long does it take to learn” Hermione said with interest.

“This says…” Neville flipped the page “Ah. Ten years of intense study, at least”

“Easy” Hermione says drily, sighing and flipping a page sharply.

Neville hides his laugh in his book.

Harry had warned Neville that he wasn’t to meet Dumbledore’s eyes, or Snape’s. “Legillimens” He’d said darkly. Neville had noticed that Dumbledore sought his eyes out more in the Great Hall. In potions Snape had only tried once, in an awkward conversation where Neville refused to look up from the table even once. Snape had eventually huffed his annoyance and walked away, but not until he’d thoroughly insulted Neville’s potion.

The dynamics of Hogwarts was changing and changing fast. The Oracle was spitting out depressing articles about attacks ad safety measures alongside its usual light-hearted columns and think-pieces. People clustered together now, looking at outsiders with wariness and distrust. At DA meetings people pestered Harry with questions about the ‘Situation Outside’ as it had begun to be referred to. Harry seemed more and more flustered and hurt every time someone asked him if everything would be okay.

“I don’t know” He would say, mouth tight at the corners. “I don’t know anything”

DA meetings were becoming less fun and more serious every week. Muggle movie nights were switched out with curses and self-defence lessons. With morbid readings of that week’s sad series of events.

A muggle family murdered in their beds. Three high-up ministry officials stepping back from their jobs and pulling their kids out of school. A shop burnt down in the semi-wizarding high-street of Borth, Wales. The sparse image of an almost empty Diagon Alley splashed across the front page of the Prophet.

Minister Bones gave regular addresses on the wireless about the situation. She sounded tense and drawn out. Susan was being hounded by all sides to see if she had any insider information. So much so that she had been given a ministry escort to her classes.

Neville could feel an uncertain chill settling over their world, turning bright things insular and colourless.

But there had been some surprises. Slytherins who had come to DA meetings in days past were staying quieter than their more vitriolic peers. In fact, the Slytherins in their year were particularly silent on the matter. Never making their pureblood more apparent than they had before.

“Draco has a lot to do with it” Ron said, when Neville brought it up.

“Pansy’s being pretty neutral in the paper” Hermione pointed out.

“She isn’t the editor” Ginny said, her usual Pansy Parkinson hatred sounding flaccid as she moved her porridge around in its bowl drably.

“She might as well be. Iphigenia is still out of action and with NEWTs coming up Kassandra is less and less involved” Luna said, and Ginny sighed but didn’t contradict her.

“I mean she watched Rocky Horror with us that one time” Ron pointed out.

“You would think that would make her hate muggles more” Neville said, who had been frankly baffled by that movie.

“I think she just has a crush on Susan Sarandon” Luna said serenely.

“I get it” Ginny said, nodding in thought.

* * *

Hermione held up a finger to her lips, not making any noise. Neville nodded, hands gripping the jagged stone wall behind him as if he were about to fall into a great cavern.

Which, of course, he was.

Hermione inched along the thin stone walkway, ducking her head under a low outcrop. Her hair was a slick, thin blonde now, pulled back away from her face. Neville imagined her own hair would have caught on the rocks. But her own hair was piled under a wig gap, safely out of the way.

Neville had shaved his own head and was deeply hoping that the spell they’d found to regrow hair would work. He didn’t think the skinhead look was right for him, however much he knew Sirius would be all over it.

Hermione’s face was hidden under foundation a shade too light for her face, with drawn on freckles all over it. Thick glasses were set over her eyes, which were in turn covered by green contact lenses. Thick eye make-up, completely different eye-brow shapes and ridiculous contour further distorted her natural face.

They’d given her thick soled shoes and padded her hips and (Neville blushed at the thought) breasts. She was wearing clothes Hermione wouldn’t be caught dead in.

It wasn’t that she was unrecognisable. But that was only because Neville knew it was her. If a witness were to be asked, they would give a description entirely unlike Hermione’s un-disguised face and body.

Since mid-February Neville had learned far too much about muggle disguise and make-up FX. Neville had a frankly terrible prosthetic nose and thick, bush eyebrows. He was wearing his own green contacts.

Ron and Harry were behind them, because they’d been left to pull the cart quickly off of the tracks and into the side shadows of the cavern they’d all stepped into. The Goblin inside had been imperiused, something Harry apparently knew how to do, and forced to follow along behind them.

Ron and Harry caught up to them now, both in their own disguises, and they all began to edge their ways along the stone walls, walking as fast as they could.

The plan had come together finally the second time they’d visited the bank. Neville had come alone at the end of the Christmas holidays because he knew his grandmother had a vault in the lower levels of the bank. He’d ummed and ahhed over his grandmothers’ things (mainly antique chairs with faded upholstery) counting silently until he’d finally heard the sounds of another cart fly past.

Then Neville had brought out his best snob. He did an excellent snob. You couldn’t be raised by someone like his Grandmother without being able to pull snob out of your back pocket any time you needed.

“I thought I would be alone while down here” He said, curling his lips. Before the bored looking goblin could respond he cut in “I pay you enough, don’t I? How can I expect my family heirlooms to be safe if just anybody can run around these floors while I’m here? I pay for this vault for the added privacy and security it provides me. Am I wasting that money?”

The goblin blinked at him, and then spoke through a barely contained snarl. “We try to only bring one vault-owner down here at a time, _sir. _We allot each customer a thirty-minute period before we allow another cart to come down here. We know how you value your privacy, sir”

To which Neville happily changed back to his own polite persona, thanking the goblin for his excellent service. Then he’d grabbed a random object from the piles of old things and hurried his way back up to the surface, meeting the trio in Fortescues.

The second time he had brought Hermione with him, and the time spent in the actual vault had been much shorter. He’d simply replaced what he’d taken out the first time (an ugly ring) and waltzed back out. It wasn’t about the lower falls anymore. No, this time they had been staking out the walls.

“Please” Hermione had asked kindly when they’d entered the cart, holding a hand over her stomach “I’m in a delicate disposition. Any way we could go a little slower?”

The goblin had glared at them, judgement written plain across his face, but he had moved his hand to a different lever anyway and the cart had flown off at a slightly slower pace then usual.

That had been when they’d spotted it. About half a mile before the Thief’s downfall there was a small ridge carved into the side of the stone-face.

“It must be for the maintenance casters who keep the charm running” Hermione had supposed, referring to the waterfall.

And right after they’d breached the water, as his stomach flipped over and over at the rapid decline, Neville had craned his neck fiercely to see a row of steep steps leading down to the floor of vaults.

A way to get into the lower vaults.

They walked down those steps now, and Harry, who looked terrible as a blonde, took the lead.

The lower vaults were built like rows of verandas, all looking over into a cavern in the middle. A cavern containing a screeching dragon.

“Oh god” Hermione said now, as they hurried behind Harry to where he apparently was sure the Lestrange Vault was.

“It’s okay” Ron said. “We have a plan for that, remember?”

“Just not today” Harry said, and Hermione nodded shakily.

Harry finally stopped in front of a vault door not unlike Neville’s grandmas. “Okay, Ron. It needs his fingerprints

Ron gingerly held the goblins long fingers up to the vault door. They each waited with baited breath, before sighing with relief when the vault door grew gold for a moment, and then disappeared. Just as it had for the Longbottom vault.

Harry was quick, moving into the vault and picking up the small yellow cup from a high shelf at the back of the room.

“How did you know it was there?” Neville frowned; he had anticipated this part taking longer.

“Just recognised it” Harry said simply, but he didn’t meet Neville’s eyes.

“Okay” Neville said.

Then they were back off, winding their way along the vault pathway, climbing up the stairs and edging their way along the cavern edge, ducking around the waterfall as they went.

Then they were back at the cart. They all heaved it back onto the track, this time facing the other way, and dropping the goblin into the driver’s seat. They climbed in after, Ron muttering “twenty minutes, twenty minutes” Under his breathe like a crazed person.

Hermione lifted her wand, took a deep breath, and wiped the goblins memories. Then she closed her eyes, her wand swaying back and forth in her hand, and created new ones.

For all the Goblin, whose name was Wendhorn according to his nametag, knew they had been led down to the vaults because Hermione was a distant Shafiq relation wishing to access her vault (they’d used a confundus charm for this part), retrieved some money, and were now making their way back up.

When Hermione stopped her chanting, they all watched with lips tight as the Goblin slowly blinked his way into awareness.

He frowned at the stopped cart. Neville took a deep breath, but the snob back into place “Why have we stopped” He barked shrilly. Harry gave him an impressed look.

“I” The goblin began, looking baffled. Then his expression cleared out into its usual professional distaste “Not to worry. Sometimes there’s something that needs to be cleared up ahead and all the carts are stopped. We can keep going now, I’m sure”

And he pulled the lever, bringing them back up into the light.

Neville’s heart didn’t stop racing for five hours.

* * *

Neville didn’t know where the cup went after they stole it. He still didn’t know why they had stolen it at all. The trio remained as tight lipped as ever, and Neville was never again invited to one of their meetings.

The only proof that any of it had ever happened at all came when the Prophet arrived the next morning, and each of them held their breaths until it was unfurled to reveal a front page about the recent wizarding attacks. No mention of a Gringotts break in at all.

After the Easter holidays Hermione wrote a featured article for the Oracle about the cruel practices of magical-animal slavery across what she called “The corporate wizarding world”. In it she referenced Gringotts and its poor Dragon five times. It caused a humanitarian outcry in the school population and went on to be picked up by the prophet itself, with Hermione smiling smugly the whole time.

No one asked why a muggle-born girl knew about the tortured Dragon in the lower basements of an ancient Wizarding institution. She knew Harry Potter after all. She could be trusted.

* * *

It was May when everything finally came to a head. All through the whispered attacks and rising tensions, You-Know-Who had remained unseen and largely un-known.

On May 3rd he walked into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic at four in the morning, when only the maintenance grew were in, and took hold of the ministry of Magic without any kind of fight. When Minister Bones floo’d into her office, she was killed with a lazy flick of You-Know-Who’s finger.

Well at least that was what people speculated. In fact, no one really knew what had happened to Minister bones. Only that she had floo’d as usual into work, and that the building had been taken already by Voldemort and his men.

It was easy to imagine the worst. Susan Bones had left school immediately, whisked away by sobbing relatives into a what could only be presumed as hiding.

The news had been broken by a lower ministry worker, who had been allowed to leave with the intention that he would spread the gospel. Voldemort had walked into the ministry and his only obstacle had been an underpaid man with a mop who had died easily. Voldemort had control of the ministry, and by default he had control of magical Britain.

They were fucked.

“Fuck” Harry cried now, kicking a wall. Neville and Harry had been alone at breakfast that morning, when the first papers arrived. Harry had stormed off angrily, past sobbing students and terrified Professors, his face a mask of storm clouds.

“Harry” Neville said softly, but his own voice sounded distant to his ears. His head full of cotton. Last year it had been his Grandmother, now the minister of magic. It would only grow, he knew, until every good thing would be snuffed out by one evil man with too much power.

“No” Harry said, whirling on him as if Neville had said anything other than his name “It was supposed to be better with her! She was a better minister. And now she’s _dead._ Just like—” But Neville didn’t hear who it was just like, because Harry as storming away from him again, striding down the long corridor. 

“Harry!” Neville cried; voice strained. He had to jog to try and catch up. “Just w_ait_—” he bumped into Harry’s back, his face smacking into Harry’s mop of hair. Harry had stopped dead after turning a corner.

“Fleur” He called, running down the corridor. At the end of the hallway Fleur was opening the door to her office. She turned at the sound of her own name, eyes widening when she saw Harry striding towards her.

Neville noticed that she looked rough. Her eyes were red-rimmed, smudges of eye-make up crowned her cheek bones. She had clearly been crying.

“’Arry” She said, her voice thicker with her accent than usual. Or perhaps thicker with emotion.

“Fleur. Are you alright? What have you heard?” Harry asked, voice verging on desperation. Fleur walked into her office, leaving the door open for them to follow. Neville closed the door behind him softly after entering, feeling awkward.

“I have not heard a thing” Fleur said bitterly, looking at her fireplace with a deep frown “I have floo’d and sent letters- Nothing. I cannot get through to- To a_nyone_”

Neville wondered who she had been trying to contact. Who would Fleur know in the British ministry?

“They’ll be busy” Harry said with a wavering certainty “Are they trying to take it back?”

“Dumbledore is saying they hope to take it back before anyone is hurt. The minister” Fleur’s face crumpled “She is almost certainly dead”

“The paper’s given up hope on that already” Neville said softly.

Fleur nodded weakly, biting the nail on her thumb. She looked far more dishevelled than he’d ever seen her. Her silvery hair was covered by a wrapped headscarf, as if she had been in the middle of getting ready before being interrupted. She slouched on the sofa in her office now, looking as if she had imploded in on herself.

“I am worried” She said quietly. Neville was suddenly reminded that their fearless DADA teacher was hardly four years older than them. That she’d only been a student the year before.

They sat in silence, each of them wrapped up in their own thoughts. Harry looked fraught; his hands balled into fists around handfuls of his robes.

It was only a few minutes later that the tense silence was disrupted. Through the open window of Fleur’s office came a silvery Jack Rabbit, trailing tendrils of silver light behind him. Neville was oddly reminded of Fleur’s hair.

Fleur jumped to her feet; hands clutched to her heart. She lets out a desperate noise.

Harry was on his feet too, staring at the Rabbit with intensity.

_“….Fleur. I haven’t got much time. We’re attacking back and have taken the Atrium. Voldemort is fighting dirty. He has about thirty accomplices but all of the Aurors and the MLE are hear. The Order too. We’re going to win this. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you later. I—I can’t wait to see you. I have to go…..”_

The message faded out. Tonks, Neville realised with surprise. Were she and Fleur close?

Fleur let out a heavy sigh “Idiot bravery” She said with a tearful voice.

“It’s her job” Harry said, looking slightly more relieved.

“It will get her killed” Fleur said, voice cracking.

“No” Harrys aid fiercely “She won’t die. She—” He stopped himself. “No one will die”

“Oh, Harry” Fleur said, choking on a bitter laugh “people have died already, cherie”

Neville was jarringly aware in that moment, with a tearful Fleur and a restless Harry, with the sun filtering anachronistically through the widow, casting dancing shadows on the delicate French rug. This was a war. They were in a war. His grandmother was dead. The minister was dead, surely. Tonks could die and so could any member of the Order. Sirius or Remus or Ron’s mum.

He himself could die. Any day.

He couldn’t comprehend it. That war had taken over the sleepy, provincial routine of their world without them hardly noticing at all. Now it was shocking them starkly awake.

Harry jerked suddenly, then stood still. His mouth opened and closed like he wanted to say something. His whole body was frozen, desperate for motion with no where to go. Suddenly, he turned. Ripping the door open, he stormed out of the room without a word.

Neville gaped after him, then shared a shocked look with Fleur.

“Go after him” Fleur said “Make sure he is safe”

Neville nodded mutely, then stood up and followed his friend in a flurry of motion. By the time he had pushed back open the closing door, Harry was already at the end of the corridor. Neville had to run to catch open, and then jog lightly to match Harry’s agitated strides.

“Harry” Neville panted “Harry, slow down. Come on”

“No, it’s fucking—” Harry stopped himself, his lips pressing together “This fucking world. This _war”_

“I know it’s—” Neville took a gulping breath “It’s shit but can you—”

“I need to do something” Harry snapped; voice harsh “You don’t have to come”

Neville stopped suddenly, grabbing Harry’s arm in a strong grip and forcing him to stop.

“No” Neville huffed “Where are you going?” His voice was harsher than he felt he had ever been in his whole life. He was shocked by his own vehemence.

Harry blinked at him, surprise shining for a moment through his cloud of frustrated action. “I—” He frowned, tugging his arm out of Neville’s hand. “I need to go to the second floor. Then I’m going into the Chamber of Secrets”

Neville frowned, searching his mind for any recognition “The what?”

Harry looked bewildered, then scowled, rolling his eyes “_This fucking world_—It’s a massive fuck-off chamber under the castle built by Salazar Slytherin. It’s in Hogwarts: A History?”

“Alright, Hermione” Neville said, confused.

Harry huffed out a little laugh “I’ve been down there before”

“Why do you need to go there now?” Neville said, sharp. He thought that there were probably more pressing matters at hand than a thousand-year-old chamber.

“I need to finish something. Something I started a long, long bloody time ago” Harry looked exhausted, suddenly. As if he hadn’t slept.

Neville studied his face with a discerning frown. Harry wasn’t moving yet, as if he was suddenly unable to move without Neville’s permission. Neville noticed his hands were trembling at his side. Neville took one of his wrists on instinct, stilling his hand. Harry looked down at their hands in surprise.

Neville didn’t believe Harry was an entirely moral person. He knew him as a person that could do bad things. But he did trust him. He did.

Because Neville knew one thing that wasn't very Gryffindor in spirit. You couldn't be good all the time. It just wasn't possible.

Not out of cruelty, or vindictiveness. Not out of some default or chip on the soul. Human beings couldn't be all good all the time or they wouldn't really be human at all; You had to be selfish too. Selfishness was healthy. It was human.

Sometimes it was the right thing to do. And good and right and bad and wrong weren't two side of a dividing line: they were jumbled. The unquantifiable fading moment between dark and dawn. Odd socks mixed up in a washing basket, never to match correctly again because one of the pair was inevitably lost down the back of something.

But there was another reason you couldn't be good all the time. Solutions weren't always about doing the good thing. They were about doing the better one. Sometimes you had to do something bad. And you had to do bad things even when they kept you awake at night. Even when you'd really rather not and the good thing would have weighed much lighter on your soul. You had to trust people to have good reasons.

Morality was infinitely complex, Neville thought. Mostly he felt an overwhelming desire to go back to bed.

Instead he did the bad thing, because it was better than doing the good thing for bad reasons.

“Fine. I’ll come with you” Harry shook his head, as if he hadn’t expected Neville to accept his earlier offer. “I’m coming with you, Harry” Neville’s voice brooked no argument, he squeezed Harry’s wrist lightly “I’m a little bit worried you’re about to off yourself”

Harry looked alarmed “I’m not suicidal”

Neville laughed darkly “I meant I was a little bit worried you were going to off yourself accidentally” He gave a wry smile “On account of you being kind of an idiot”

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled ever so lightly. Then it was replaced by a frown. “You aren’t gong to like what I want to do.”

“Harry, no offence. I robbed a bank for you no questions asked. I think we can assume at this point that I’m all in”

Harry gave him an appreciative look, a small glow of joy in his eyes “All in, eh?”

“Yes. However mental it makes me” Neville shrugged.

“Come on, then” Then Harry was shifting their hands so that he gripped Neville’s palm in his own, dragging him down the corridor.

\--

Harry lead Neville into a girl’s bathroom.

“I take it back. You’re mental” Neville said drily, eyeing Moaning Myrtle with trepidation.

“Harry!” She cried, letting out an ear-bleeding screech “It’s been so long”

“I was in here last week” Harry told the ghost, eyebrows raised.

Neville gave Harry a sideways look of judgement. But he was a supportive friend, so he didn’t ask why Harry was spending so much time in a girl’s bathroom.

“Only to go down there” Myrtle pouted, looking at the sinks jealously.

“Sorry” Harry said with a shrug “We can chat later. I have stuff to do”

Myrtle huffed, letting out a cry. Then she back flipped into one of the stalls, presumably to sulk. They could hear her clearly put-upon sobs loud and clear.

The boys shared a wide-eyed look. Dead girls could be so weird.

Harry started towards one of the sinks and began to hiss under his breathe. Neville reflected that living boys could be pretty damn weird too.

“What are you doing?” He asked, but his question was answered when the sink suddenly shifted, jolting out of place with its neighbours.

Neville watched in shock as it sank backwards, revealing a gaping tunnel in the floor.

“Hogwarts is a weird bloody place” Harrys aid, slapping Neville jovially on the back “We have to go down there”

And then he slid down the creepy tunnel in the floor of the creepy girl’s bathroom. Because, Neville presumed, he was Harry Potter and Harry Potter’s movements were unplottable.

Neville groaned, bemoaned his life choices, and slid down after him.

The tunnel twisted often, like a drainpipe, and felt rough against his skin. He kept his hands in the air as if he were on a muggle-rollercoaster. Remus had taken them all to a muggle theme park in the summer Sirius had loved every minute. Neville had decidedly not.

The tunnel finally began to level out, and Neville dropped out gently into a small ante-chamber. “You’re lucky we’ve cleaned this place up” Harry said, looking at the floor as if reminiscing about something. He gave a light shudder “That did not use to be such a pleasant landing. Here, take one of these” Harry handed him a small drawstring cloth bag. Neville took it with curiosity “We started keeping that down here because of Hermione. She put a cushioning charm on the landing as well”

“Where would you be without Hermione?” Neville asked, opening the bag with curiosity.

“Dead” Harry said simply, shrugging.

The bag was full of strips of multi-coloured cloth. “What is this for?”

“Blindfolds” Harry said, reaching in to take a pink strip of cloth. “I used to use muggle eye-masks, but Ginny brought me a load of these that she got off her mum. Scarp fabric I’m guessing”

“Ginny’s been down here?” Neville asked with surprise, selecting a yellow blindfold and handing the bag back to Harry. Harry tossed it carelessly to the side of the room.

Harry nodded “She followed me in second year. She comes down to feed Beverly with me sometimes”

Neville stared at Harry with deep worry “Who on earth is Beverly?”

“She’s a basilisk” Harry said blithely, tying the blindfold around his eyes “But that on”

Neville let out a squeak, quickly tying the cloth around his eyes. He was suddenly plunged into a strange yellow-y blindness. “There’s a basilisk down here?”

“She’s harmless” Harrys aid simply, as if a basilisk wasn’t an XXXXX classified beast.

Harry took his hand, pulling him along somewhere. Neville was suddenly aware that although he trusted Harry deeply, he didn’t fully trust Harry to be sane and make good choices.

They stopped once, and Harry hissed again at something before leading Harry through some kind of doorway- like the portrait-hole. Then after another small tunnel Neville felt the air open up around him. They were somewhere bigger now. A chamber.

Neville heard a hissing that wasn’t Harry. Harry replied. Neville felt stupid for only just realising what Harry had been doing. He wasn’t just hissing. He was speaking Parseltoungue.

“What are you saying?” Neville asked, trying to keep the whimper out of his voice.

“I’m just telling her I didn’t bring any food” Harrys aid.

“You’re telling a 50ft snake that you came down here without any food??” Neville squeaked.

“She’s nice, don’t worry” Harry said, as if Neville was being unreasonable.

The snake and Harry hissed at each other for a bit more. Neville noticed that the snakes hissing was getting louder.

“Is she mad?” Neville asked, squeezing Harry’s hand tight in fear.

“No, she’s excited” Harry said, his own voice verging on joyful “I’m telling her I’m going to set her free”

“You’re _what?!”_ Neville yelled, twisting around as if ready to pull Harry blindly back up to the castle.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m going to blind her. We found a spell before Christmas that would do it without too much pain. I was going to let her go at the end of the term. But I need her to leave now”

“Where is she going to go?” Neville cried.

“Not the forest. The Acromantulas wouldn’t have her. She’s going up into the mountains”

“Har_ry_. What if she eats people?”

“She won’t! We have an agreement. No eating anything me-shaped” Harry said this calmly, as if he was certain a great bloody big snake would keep it’s word.

Neville just let out a whimper. He listened to Harry talk to the snake for a bit longer, and then an orange light burst through Neville’s blindfold. He heard the Snake give a strange sound, and Harry hissing frantically.

He laughed suddenly “It’s worked! It didn’t hurt her. Here, look” Before Neville could do a thing Harry had ripped Neville’s blindfold down under his nose.

Neville gaped at the sight before him. It was one thing to know that Basilisks were 50ft long- but to see it? Neville’s mind could hardly comprehend. She fit in the chamber they were in, though. That was because the chamber they were in was ginormous, with cavernous white walls. A humungous carved effigy of a domineering man towered over the end of the hall. Streams of pale-green water ran down the edges of the room.

The snake was beautiful, in that biblical awe-some way. It’s scales shone emerald and topaz, it’s eyes were golden. Neville was _staring into_ a Basilisks eyes.

“This is surreal” he whispered.

“I always thought this would be a cool place to hang out” Harry said, benignly looking around the chamber. Neville questioned his sanity, not for the first time in the last twenty minutes.

“How are you going to get her out” Neville asked.

“The tunnels are all under the castle, but I’ve found where some of them come out. I’m going to blast the hell out of one of the grates at the end and she can egt out that way”

“Won’t someone see? They’ll panic”

“Nah. It comes out outside of Hogwarts grounds. Twisty Hogwarts magic, you know”

Neville nodded. Anyone who had been late to charms as much as he had because of the damn staircases knew about twisty Hogwarts magic.

Neville sat down to wait, as Harry went off chatting happily to the snake down a side tunnel. Neville wondered bizarrely if Harry would miss the snake. Only Harry potter would make a friend out of a mythical beast of olde.

What the hell was Harry? The encompassing _completely mental_ didn’t seem to cover it. Could Harry be contained by explanation?

Neville shuddered, looking at his surroundings with a suspicion. Maybe Harry’s secret Chimera bezzie mate would pop around the corner any moment.

The domineering man glared down at Neville. He guessed it must be a depiction of Salazar Slytherin, if he had been the one to make the place. He probably wasn’t too happy to have two Gryffindors down here with him. Neville glared right back, because he was almost certain the stone couldn’t actually do anything to hurt him.

Though he wouldn’t hedge his bets completely.

Harry wandered back into the chambers a long half an hour later. Neville’s thought had eventually turned to the ministry coup, and his spirits had been thoroughly dampened. Almost as damp as this whole place was.

“Why did you have to kick her out?” Neville asked softly, when Harry came back to him. The thought had also been bugging him.

Harry’s lips twisted, evasively. “Come on.” He led Neville to the other end of the chamber, under the statue. Neville hadn’t been able to see before but there was a small black cauldron resting in the shadows of Salazar Slytherins chin.

Neville peered into it and spotted the little yellow cup they’d liberated from Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault resting on a pile of other objects.

“Beverly didn’t like that we kept this stuff down here. She won’t go near it.”

“It’s just normal stuff” Neville said, frowning. Harry shook his head.

“This is dark magic. Indestructible” He sighed. “Almost. Bev could have done it but she never would, no matter how much I asked. I didn’t want to hurt her. That’s basilisk fangs out of the picture.”

“Why are you trying to destroy them?” Neville asked, watching the objects with more wariness. Anything that could only be destroyed by basilisk venom wasn’t something to be taken lightly. But it just looked like ordinary things to Harry- A cup, some kind of necklace. A plain black diary.

“This stuff is what’s helping Voldemort” Harry said darkly. His green eyes were swimming with emotion. Neville felt suddenly wary of him. “It’s keeping him alive”

“If we destroy it will he die?” Neville asked, shocked at the ease.

Harry shook his head. “But if we destroy it then he _can_ die”

“Voldemort’s immortal” Neville asked, distraught at the thought

“Something like that. But he needs these objects, so we need to destroy them”

“What else hurts them?”

“Something imbued with Basilisk venom” Harry sighed, looking shifty “And. And Fiendfyre”

It took Neville only seconds to catch on. “Harry, you _can’t”_

“I have to” Harry said his voice desperate.

“But you have to be skilled to control Fiendfyre. You have to know how to cast it and that’s dark magic. That’s- _black_ fucking magic”

“Not if I’m doing it for good” Harrys aid, sounding manic in his determination.

“That’s a shitty justification and you know it” Neville said desperately. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to stop Harry “You could hurt people. There’s an entire castle of people upstairs”

Harry shook his head frantically, not taking his eyes off of the little black cauldron. “The chamber will contain it”

“You don’t know how to control it” Neville cried.

“I _can_. But if I can’t-“ He shook his head “the chamber will keep it from the castle”

Neville wasn’t sure he believed Harry. How could he know how to control Fiendfyre? What experience could Harry possible have with Fiendfyre?

“I can do it” Harry insisted, Neville could see he was fingering his wand.

“Harry you’re upset. But this is rash. This is fucking—this isn’t one of your whimsical ideas. This is mental”

“I kn_ow_” Harrys voice cracked. Rising in volume. “Neville there’s no other way. I have to burn this shit- it’s a fucking cancer on our lives and I’m the only one” His entire face winced, as if in pain “I’m all alone in trying to stop it from choking our whole world.”

“You can’t” Neville whispered again, but his protest was weak and fell on deaf ears.

Harry looked at him head on. “Neville. You go back to the first door, it’s covered in snakes you can’t miss it. Go back there and wait for me. I’ll meet you”

“No, I won’t” Neville said, the idea of leaving Harry to his madness even more frightening than the thought of staying.

“You have to. Go back. I will follow you; I promise. I won’t even be a moment behind” Harry wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was raising his wand, closing his eyes as if to begin a complex chant.

“No” Neville said, but he was already tumbling back, his feet turning over each other in their haste to get away. Harry began to chant. A spark flew from his wand.

Neville stood only a few metres away, transfixed. Harry’s lips were moving but no sound came out. His wand was moving in odd patterns, conducting to an empty orchestra. Neville’s heart raced. Maybe the spell would fail. Maybe Harry could control it.

The first lick of flame crested over the edge of the cauldron. Neville could swear that dancing eyes watched him for within the flame. It was almost anticlimactic- that sweet orange dance of fire.

Then the cauldron cracked in half. Harry’s chanting voice rose over the sudden roar of flame that spilled out. Purple flame danced with blue, letting out feeler tentacles of orange and red. Sometimes it would sift dramatically, and in the centre Neville glimpsed the flames of green that the Fyre was so famous for.

But it was staying put where the cauldron had been. It danced and surged, hooves seemed to stretch from the flames, galloping on the damp air, racing to get away but instead they were sucked back in. As if the flames were behind a whirlwind. The fames would reach up into the air, then surge back down.

Neville had stepped backwards unconsciously; he could only barely feel the heat of the flames where he stood. But Harry was only a metre or so away, his face bathed in dancing light.

“Harry” Neville said, but his voice was a croak. His throat was all taken up by his heart—no room to scream for Harry to run, to stop it, to get away you beautiful fucking idiot.

To do anything but stand there and chant.

When Harry did finally stop chanting, it felt as if they shared the same held breath. They watched the flames. They weren’t tame, but they w_ere_ staying put. Dancing a demonic ballet in the space the cauldron had once stood.

Neville gaped. Harry had done it. He had kept the fire contained. It was going to be okay. Harry turned around, looking at Neville with bright eyes and the beginning of a smile curling at his mouth.

Then the first fire serpent flew into the air, diving at Harry. Neville screamed, and Harry’s face shifted, he ducked, rolling to the side. The serpent burst into green flame where he had stood. The small blaze was churning now, as if readying to birth more fire dragons. Itw as spreading, consuming the space. Neville could feel the heat growing. It was going to be unbearable.

“Run!” Harry hollered, finding his way to his feet and sprinting towards Neville just as another comet of green fire burst forth to take him.

Neville gaped, he felt glued to the floor. “Neville” Harry screamed, but he was still metres away. Neville watched a purple parrot of flame fly screeching into the air. A green snake of fire, so much smaller than the basilisk but just as deadly slithered faster and faster across the floor. It was nipping at Harry’s heels.

And then Harry was in front of him, screaming into his face. But Neville couldn’t hear it, his head was under water. Under flames. He was going to die down here. Swallowed by a blazing green fire dragon.

Harry grabbed his hand for the third time that day and pulled. Neville staggered backwards. A small fireball flew past his head.

The whole world sped up again, Neville’s head swam. Harry was pulling desperately at him, screaming for Neville to move, to run.

He did. He took one finally awed look at the roiling menagerie of flames and then he turned on his heels and ran, puling a distraught Harry along.

They ran together, shoulder to shoulder, the flames following them with a vengeance. They dived into the tunnel, a screaming green Horned Serpent dived in after them, splitting itself into three smaller versions which danced and grasped for them. The rush of oxygen hammered in Neville’s ear.

Harry began screaming out hisses at the door, even as they were metres away. He was begging it to open, Neville knew even if he couldn’t understand. Stone snakes were shifting upon the door, moving as if releasing a padlock.

They reached the door and Harry yanked it open, pushing Neville through. Harry dove through after- but the flames came to screaming cinders in the shape of demonic Cornish pixies.

They both pushed the round stone door, but the fire pushed back. Neville could feel the heat of it on his palms, warming the stone rapidly. There was an inch of open space still unclosed. Tendrils of flame reached desperately through. Harry was chanting under his breathe. 

…_cessabit ignis, cessabit ignis, cessabit ignis…._

Neville began to chant along to, hoping he was saying it right. They heaved on the door, pushing the flame back.

“Cessabit ignis” Neville screamed, sweat and tears rolling down his face from the heat and the terror. “Cessabit ignis”

And final, with a curdling scream, the door snapped into place, the shifting stone snakes curling their way back into place. Harry and Neville stood in place, panting, hands still pressed against the door as if the fire might burst through at any moment.

But the stone stayed still, as if it would never imagine moving at all. And though the heat and the screams of the flames were penetrating through the stone, the flames were not.

“What the hell dd you do?” Neville yelled, rounding on a soot covered harry. Neville’s voice was cracked from the smoke. His throat and eyes ached. “You’re absolutely fucking crazy, you know that?”

Neville was in Harry’s face, he was screaming. His eyes were watering, from the fire or form emotion Neville didn’t know. “I’m sorry” Harry croaked. He looked distraught.

“We could have died!” Neville yelled, unforgiving.

“I’m sorry!” Harry yelled back, stepping further into Neville’s space “I _had_ to”

“Had to get yourself fucking killed, me along with you” Neville said. All he could see was red. Red flames and red anger and the green of Harry’s eyes. Like Fiendfyre.

“No. Had to save the world. Keep everyone safe. People are dying, Nev. People are dying and I could stop them”

“What’s the point if you get yourself killed along the way?” Neville said, before he could stop himself. His own voice was fraught to his ears.

Harry stared at him, looking shocked. “I’m sorry” He said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

Neville kissed him. He grabbed Harry’s soot stained collar and pulled him upwards, so that he matched the few inches Neville had on him. Then he crushed his mouth to the crazy hero’s, mouth desperate. Harry kissed back, hands wrapping around Neville’s neck.

Upstairs it was barely lunchtime, and people were trading information about the coup like any other gossip, hands wringing with the unknowing. It had been only a few hours since they had heard the news themselves. Fleur still sat in her office, desperately awaiting another Patronus. The first wave of soft heat was only now drifting up through the stone floors. People were wondering why the weather had picked such horrible day to be so lovely and warm. They rolled their eyes, blamed it on the baffling British weather.

And down below the heating flagstones Neville Longbottom kissed Harry Potter next to a raging fire of dark magic, only separated from it by a single stone wall.

* * *

Neville felt more than saw Harry sit down next to him.

Neville had made his way out to the lake only half an hour earlier. Most people were out by the lake. The castle was a furnace, and the heat spilled out onto the grounds as well. It must have been more than thirty degrees. People had abandoned their robes for summer dresses and shorts. Ice lollies had been brought by the hundreds from the house-elves.

It was close to seven in the evening now, the sun just beginning to sink in the sky. Harry and Neville had returned from the Chamber of Secrets in awkward silence, the only noise coming from Harry’s hissed Parseltongue and Neville’s squeaky soles, damp from the chamber.

Neville had been surprised to find Hermione and Ron waiting agitatedly in the second-floor bathroom. Hermione seemed to be having a theological debate with Myrtle, but she stopped as soon as she saw them emerge, diving forward to fling her arms around Harry, then Neville in turn.

Ron was glaring at Harry “Why the hell are you covered in soot, mate?”

Hermione stepped back from Neville, hand over her mouth. “You didn’t” She said, more of a statement then a question. Clearly, they were aware of Harry’s idea.

“He did” Neville croaked darkly. Despite their early, er, _foray_, Neville could still feel his anger simmering low in his stomach.

“Har_ry_” Hermione cried, flinging her arms up in the air.

Neville had slipped out unnoticed under Ron and Hermione’s yelling. He went upstairs to take a shower in the dormitories. The heat hadn’t been to bad on the upper floors, so Neville had waited with most of his house as fresh news appeared through the emergency newspaper editions, letters from family members in the know and the usual flimsy grapevine.

At three, the news came that there was all out battle in the Atrium. At five, that the hostages taken by Voldemort had been freed. At six, the whole common room sat in hushed silence to listen to an emergency address.

“_Wizarding Britain. The ministry has been retaken. Do not panic” _Eyes had shifted around in disbelief at that “_I am Kingsley Shacklebolt and will act as your Minister in the interim. This morning Minister Bones was murdered” _A gasp went up at that, though it had been mostly confirmed for the whole day _“Voldemort took the ministry by force, and by violence. We will not let this happen again. As your Acting Minister I assure you; Wizarding Britain will not bow to tyrants. We will defend or nation, and our people. And the Ministry shall not fall again” _

The silence in the common room had been defeating. They all waited for more, but no more came. That was it. The room burst into chatter, into panic, into tears.

Neville couldn’t stand it. Harry, Ron and Hermione hadn’t returned to the common room at all that afternoon. He fled the crimson room, walking swiftly through the castle. Something unruly was simmering in his chest. He felt as if he were full of some strange adrenaline, and yet also as if he was stock still. Frozen in churning movement.

He made his way to the lake, shedding his jumper and rolling his shirt sleeves up as he went and the heat finally began to hit him. At the lake edge, he sat on a fallen log, kicking his socks and shoes onto the stony shore.

When Harry joined him, his mood had only diminished somewhat.

“You hear?” Neville asked, even though he was certain Harry had. Harry nodded, then spoke because Neville had kept staring resolutely forward.

“We were in the Room of Requirement” He said. Neville felt illogically jealous that all of his friends had been together without him, he let it fuel the flame burning in his chest.

When Neville didn’t speak, Harry sighed.

“I know I acted like an idiot. I_ know._ I’m sorry” He cleared his throat “I’m stupidly fucking sorry”

Neville stayed silent, eyes watching the still glassiness of the lake.

“I shouldn’t have put you in danger. I should have thought it through. I should have Known I couldn’t control the fire” Harry was on a roll now, his voice growing in pleading “I shouldn’t have kissed you—”

“I kissed you” Neville pointed out, unable to stop himself.

Harry paused “I- yeah. Yeah you did”

The moment dragged out.

“You want me to apologise?” Neville asked sharply.

“Do you have feelings for me?” Harry asked, sounding fragile. Neville finally looked at him. He was staring at Neville with fear. Neville wondered what he was so afraid of.

“I know I like boys as well as girls” Neville said simply “I’ve always known that”

“How do you know?” Harry asked, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

Neville shrugged, frowning lightly “Isn’t that just something that people know?”

Harry shook his head “I don’t have a clue”

“But I thought-“ Neville said, frowning and thinking of Draco. He stopped himself, It wasn’t his place. He sighed. “I didn’t kiss you because I like you. Well, I think I liked you a little. But mainly it was because you were there and we’d just escaped death and you pay attention to me”

“Pay attention?” Harry asked, brow furrowed.

“No one ever treats me normal. They act like at any moment I’m liable to break something, or explode, or say something dumb” Neville shrugged “You don’t”

“People shouldn’t do that” Harry said, frowning.

“People don’t notice me enough as a real person to think” Neville said simply.

“But you don’t like me?”

Neville thought hard. He had gotten butterflies sometimes over Christmas break when Harry had spent so much time with him. Sometimes he caught himself staring at Harry’s eyes, his nest of majestic hair. But the feelings ebbed and flowed. He was just as likely to catch himself staring at Ginny like that, in all her furious beauty. Or at Blaise Zabini in potions. And he knew he didn’t like them. He just thought they were pretty.

Neville shook his head “I don’t like you. And you don’t like me”

“Don’t I?” Harry said weakly, looking lost.

Neville laughed genuinely “No, you don’t. But you do probably need to ask yourself who it is you do like. I’m sensing its not something you’ve thought very deeply about”

Harry nodded sheepishly “Mainly I think about Voldemort. And dying”

“A healthy activity for any teenager” A drawling voice called to them. They both looked over their shoulders. There friends were walking towards them, Draco at the helm. The dying sun lit up his white blonde hair, giving his smirk a devilish nature “How morbid, Potter”

Their friends all laughed, easily. They came to sit around them, Hermione transfiguring a stone into a blanket.

Draco sat next to Harry and Neville watched emerald eyes trail across Draco’s blazing hair. Neville could guess that Harry wasn’t just thinking about the sun.

“Did you finish it?” Ginny asked, and Neville looked away from Harry. Ginny was directing her question at an ethereal Luna, who was backlit by the pink sunset. Both Luna and Hermione’s hair had frizzed up in the heat. Ginny’s was piled atop her head.

“Finish what?” Ron asked curiously, sprawling out with his head in Hermione’s lap.

“Kassandra pushed us to do an Oracle special for tomorrow morning. She asked me to write the cover piece” Luna said, looking pleased.

“That’s brilliant” Hermione said, and they all congratulated her in equal measure.

“Do you have it here?” Ginny asked, pulling Luna’s crocheted bag towards her. She pulled out a roll of fresh parchment. “This it?”

Luna nodded, and Ginny unrolled the parchment. She must have only read the first few words when her face softened into a gentle smile “Oh, listen to this, guys.

“_It is difficult in dark times such as these to remember what has come before. We wallow in our own fear. In our certainty of destruction. We forget that human beings have an uncanny ability to survive almost anything. We are the hardiest of cockroaches._

_By taking the ministry Voldemort was not only attempting to subjugate our people, or to circumvent our liberty. He tried to take away our hope. Our ability to believe. _

_We lost many to that attempt. Their loss cannot be forgotten, nor moved passed. It must be absorbed by us all and remembered. We must go on the next day and the next and carry those lost with us. The thirty-seven wizarding lives lost on this tragic day must live beside our own souls, be carried as we carry ourselves. We must be stronger for the remembering, and stronger together in the loss. _

_Voldemort can take lives. He can take liberty. He can take a building. But in taking it back we as humans prove one thing; He cannot take our ability to move forward. He cannot take the tenacity of our hope. _

_We are all human beings before wizards, and in that knowledge, we must unite with all of our fellow human beings, magical or not, in the desperate hope of a safer future for us all.” _

Ginny paused in her reading, she had tears brimming in her eyes. The rest of them were deadly silent to, a mirage of stillness in the sudden heat.

“Then there’s a poem” Ginny said, voice shaky. She reached a hand up to blot at her eyes.

Neville, who was closest reached over to her and gently took the parchment.

He unfurled it to reveal the final few inches, three neat stanzas in Luna’s curling handwriting.

“ “Hope” is the thing with feathers -  
That perches in the soul –  
And sings the tune without the words -  
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -  
And sore must be the storm –  
That could abash the little Bird  
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -  
And on the strangest Sea -  
Yet - never - in Extremity,  
It asked a crumb - of me.”

When Neville stopped speaking, no one spoke. Mulling gently over what they had heard. It was a beautiful sentiment, but it wasn’t just that.

Neville looked out at the lake, the sun half visible at its edge, and he felt that tender thing curl around his burning heart. The hope Luna had written about. And although he was afraid of the future, so desperately afraid, he was something else to. Something stronger.

Determined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the poem is ""hope" is the thing with feathers" by Emily Dickinson

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! My tumblr is @fondwand where I contribute absolutely nothing to society.


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